


Life, Death, and Other Reasons for Lilies

by 6feetbelow0



Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Lore Olympus (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, F/M, Gen, Great Depression, embalming
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:41:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 29,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22268113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/6feetbelow0/pseuds/6feetbelow0
Summary: The rural midwestern town of Lore has handled death just fine on their own until the new funeral home comes to town, bringing with it a man designed to rattle the town's eccentric young florist.
Relationships: Hades/Persephone (Lore Olympus)
Comments: 137
Kudos: 264





	1. Death Comes to Town

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Ellisemme for beta reading and suggesting a completely sufficient title.

Unlocking the softly gleaming wood door of The Arctic Rose every morning was a comforting act. Persephone closed the door behind her, flipping the placard over to read “Hello! We Are Open!” just below the painted signage on the glass,

The Arctic Rose

Est. 1923

Demeter Kore, Proprietor

Tel: LO3-2085

She lightly traced her hand over the letters of her late mother’s name with a soft sigh. The flower shop had been her mother’s dream, one that managed to eventually consume Persephone as well. The pair moved to Lore after the death of Persephone’s father, and utilized some of their savings to open the small space. Neither of them could have foreseen the sudden slide into tuberculosis for Demeter, nor how quickly it would take her from the world. Six years later and Persephone still couldn’t bring herself to change the name painted on the glass.

Everything about the space reminded her of her mother, from the soft green and white tile floor to the shining light wood shelves. She recalled fondly the day they had opened, the entire town coming through, marveling at the selection, most leaving with at least a small nosegay or rose for the object of their affection. From babies born, to weddings, to funerals, The Arctic Rose was there, buoying the joys and heartaches of life.

Persephone wrapped her apron about her waist, the long ribbons fastening in the front, and set to work crafting the order of the day. The morning light was cast in wavering jewel tones as it passed through the shelf of colored glass vases lined in tidy rows along it, blotted out in total in spots by the few dark opaque ceramic pieces on display. Persephone trailed her fingertips along the display, coming to rest on a ceramic vase of deep, dusty pink shaped in the angular, art nouveu style that had of late been de rigeur among her patrons. Mrs. Larsson’s family had chosen arrangements of soft cream carnations interspersed with pale pink roses and gladioli. She frowned at the vase, contemplating the passing of the kind old woman. She often frequented Persephone’s shop before the bottom seemed to fall out of the world, leaving everyone strapped and desperate. The town had yet to fully recover, but the rains returned of late, a hopeful portent of better times to come.

There was little business to make Persephone smile during the depression, most of her clients only those who had lost a loved one, funerals still being the one time people could justify purchasing flowers. Eventually, even that dwindled further and ceased. She placed the angular pink vase on the counter next to the blousy bunches of flowers, their scent slowly opening up in the warm morning air. Mrs. Larsson’s plump smiling face and easy laugh danced through her mind as she set to arranging the floral display for her final rest. The delicate jingling of the bell at the entry drew her attention momentarily as Hermes came sauntering into the store. He stopped to inspect the completed arrangement on the counter, the match for the one Persephone was currently crafting.

“Only the two going out?” He asked in his trademark brusque manner. Few others in town could afford to hire outside help, but when Persephone’s friend had mentioned needing a job, she hadn’t hesitated to hire him on as her delivery man. He was dependable and strong, and she often found herself grateful for the company and the buffer between dealing with some of her more irksome clients. Not many people chose to stand toe to toe and argue with the taciturn young man, and those that did found themselves swiftly handled.

Persephone swept a wrist across her brow, the greenhouse-like interior of her store was shaping up to be quite warm today and she had already developed a thin gleam of sweat on her temple. “Yes. The Larsson service begins in an hour and a half. I’ll have this one ready to go pretty quick here.” She turned her attentions back to threading the long, supple, green stems together, the blooms interlacing into a cloud of soft color and heady fragrance.

Hermes rounded the counter to watch her work, brushing his long jet hair over one shoulder. “I don’t know why you work so hard for those people. They’re never really grateful, you know?” Persephone glanced up at him, blowing an errant lock of deep ebony hair from in front of her eyes, her brow raised questioningly.

“Well if I don’t, you don’t get paid. Like it or not, the uppity folks are the ones with the money right now.” She delicately threaded greenery into the vase, filling out the bottom and obscuring the stems. “But this woman was kindly. I’m sad to see her go. Small blessing her family could still afford a proper service.”

Hermes grunted by way of scoffing at her sentiment “Could afford things an awful lot easier without all the pageantry. All that effort, only to abandon their dead to journey alone.” Hermes’ family still ascribed to the traditional method of honoring and guiding their dead. To them, the protestant funerals that ended with the burial were considered cold.

“I know” Persephone sighed. “Used to be the protestant wakes were a family affair and much longer. Made more sense when you have family traveling from all reaches. Now you’ve got the “business” of dying.” She ended her small rant on a sour note. Especially with the state of things the past 10 years, it made little sense economically to have a fancy funeral and the body treated with all manner of preservatives. She could even admit her job had been superfluous for a time. No one _needs_ flowers for a dead body, but those in town did need to eat.

For the worst of the time, she had closed up shop. She was able to live frugally enough on the inheritance left to her by her great-aunt Hestia, blessedly little depleted by the great market crash and bank collapse. Growing flowers simply seemed too selfish in a time of heavy drought, the farmers needing what little water was available far more than a bunch of daisies did. With the return of the rains last year, she chose to re-open. Persephone had desperately missed digging in the dirt and coaxing the countless blooms to life, something about it always deeply resonated with her. But with the reopening of her beloved shop came dealing with the newfangled corpse handlers.

Last year a new building had gone up in the center of town, all red brick, fronted with gigantic, white, fluted columns and a broad sign at the end of the walk proclaiming in gleaming brass letters,

Pluton Funerary Services

Est. 1936

Caskets and Embalming

Tel: LO4-2020

Any Time, Day or Night

Gone, was the home funeral with family caring for the dead. In the larger towns and big cites it had long ago already passed, but here in Lore, change had taken its time, sneaking in when no one was paying attention and setting up shop right in the center of town. The idea of for-profit death still made Persephone feel mildly angry. The people of Lore had had everything they could do to afford to eat and clothe themselves while the crop prices plummeted and many still struggled. Now this rich family had come swanning in to fleece the bereaved.

Persephone spun the vase slowly on the countertop, analyzing her work. Most families took the arrangements home following the service and she liked to make sure they looked pleasing from all angles. “Ok, this one is done. You better scram before Mr. Deep Pockets gets all grumpy.”

Hermes smiled slightly and gathered the voluminous bouquet in one arm, striding to the front of the shop to gather its twin. “To the death dealers?”

Persephone smirked, brushing the trimmings from her work counter into the trash “To the funeral home, yes.”

Hermes nodded “Anything else while I am out?”

Persephone glanced around the shop. All was in order, well stocked, and she had no more outstanding orders for the day. “No. I think that’s all for today. Thank you, Hermes.”

He backed out of the door, calling back to Persephone as he left “See you tomorrow then. Say hello to your Ina for me.”

Persephone nodded and waved as he disappeared out the door. Stepping around the counter, she flipped the small placard on the door from “Hello! We Are Open!” to “Be back soon!” and headed for the back. The broad glass doors at the rear of her store opened into a large, sultry greenhouse. The upper Midwest climate was trying, at best, to grow all but the hardiest of flowers. Persephone’s greenhouse was her stopgap. Her exemplary green thumb in tandem with the warm humid space kept her in lush greenery year-round, and a broader range than could be achieved outside on the prairie. Walking past a large fern, she dipped her fingertips into the soil, checking if it was in need of water. Satisfied that the plants were thriving well, she headed out the back door and into the cool morning breeze.

Rounding the building to take the sidewalk Persephone bumped into a small lump of brown fur. “I was wondering if I’d see you today!” she cooed and extracted from her pocket a small hard biscuit. Crouching down she offered the treat to the russet pup who snatched it from her hand, tail wagging in delight. “Don’t you worry little friend. I’m still working on Artemis. One of these days, you’re coming home with me, girl.” Persephone whispered conspiratorially as the dog gulped down its delicacy. She gave the furry head a few more scratches before bearing off in the direction of the small market at the heart of town.

Persephone recognized and greeted almost every passerby, though some of the moneyed folks didn’t care to return the gesture. She was glad Hermes wasn’t with her. He always took such umbrage with that lot and how they looked down on Persephone, no matter how many times she told him that she simply didn’t care. She already knew all the myriad reasons they didn’t like her. She had money but refused to flaunt it. She “consorted” with the local Dakota. She owned her own business, refusing most men’s help. She had turned down a handful of proposals from men of “good standing”. When the physician’s wife had walked past her home and Persephone had been gardening wearing the new style women’s trousers, she thought she would never hear the end of it. The nicer ones called her “eccentric”, the cruel ones called her a disgrace. In the grand scheme of things, she figured that said a great deal more about them than it did about her. Thankfully, the town as a whole held far more kind faces in it for her than those that looked at her like they had eaten an entire lemon for breakfast.

Pausing outside the market, she took a moment to fix her riotous curls in the reflection of the store window. It was a good deal that she kept it above her chin the way she did, waved along the crown with energetic pin curls about her ears. Grinning and sticking her tongue out at her reflection she pulled the door open and stepped into the blessedly cool interior of Nelson’s Market. The bell chimed raucously announcing her arrival and drawing a smile from old Mr. Nelson himself.

“Miss Kore! And how are you today?” He grinned at her, the few teeth he had remaining giving him the effect of a very jolly jack o’ lantern.

“Quite well, my good man. Quite well.” Persephone fished in her pocket, withdrawing a lone nickel and slapping it on the countertop heartily “One today. The hard stuff.” She said, faux gravel in her voice. Mr. Nelson laughed, eyes twinkling with merriment as he fetched Persephone the individual glass bottle of root beer and prized the top off for her.

Shaking his head in a show of concern he handed it to her “One of these days, you’ll get into trouble miss.” He said sadly before breaking into another broad, hollow grin.

“Haven’t you heard?” Persephone leaned slightly over the counter “I already am trouble, mister!” she whispered, eliciting a fond chuckle from the elderly man. Persephone took a pull off her drink and winked before heading out the door. “See ya later!” she called back to the shop owner who waved and shook his head in amusement.

Persephone made her way to the center green space of town, her bottle of root beer sweating gently in her hand under the morning sun. The trees and grass now all rebounded, replacing the decade of near omnipresent drifts of sandy soil. Small children darted about, burning off their boundless energy before the school day was set to begin. She stood, watching them play and chase one another while she finished her soda, only to be shaken from it by a deep voice behind her.

“Miss Kore, I’ve been trying to reach you.” Persephone turned to be faced with the last person she felt like speaking to this morning, the owner and operator of the town’s new funeral home, Aidoneus Pluton. He always struck her as something not entirely human, though the day was setting up to be rather warm, he still dressed in a full three-piece suit, tweed the color of deep earth flawlessly tailored to his form. His shoes shone in the sunlight as though dust wouldn’t dare sully them. His sandy brown hair was swept neatly back from his face, no doubt scented and held with brilliantine. Most unsettling of all were always his eyes. Shockingly, inhumanly blue, his gaze never failed to rattle her to her bones.

Persephone suddenly felt very aware indeed beneath that gaze of the sweat on her brow and the faded blue floral dress she wore. At least she had allowed her cousin Artemis to badger her into wearing stockings today. She smoothed the front of her skirt and tipped her chin up to meet his icy stare, trying to project her best professional demeanor.

“Well, you have found me, Mr. Pluton. How can I help you?” Relief rolled over her as she managed to keep her voice from wavering.

“You were meant to deliver floral arrangements for the Larsson family’s service this morning.” This man wasted no words, every tone level, every consonant cleanly clipped.

“And I did. I sent Hermes with them…” she checked her wristwatch “45 minutes ago”

An almost imperceptible tensing of Aidoneus’ jaw was the only outward evidence of his frustration with her. “And he delivered them to the funeral home.”

“As I instructed him to.” Persephone huffed. This was swiftly becoming one of the more unaccountably weird conversations she had had in some time.

“The Larsson service is not being held in our chapel. It is at the Lutheran church.” Again, with the cold facts. Persephone was beginning to wonder if her initial impression had not, in fact, been correct and she was dealing with some sort of automaton. Her frustration with him grew. She couldn’t very well be expected to know that the venue had changed without being notified.

“Well, then take the flowers from the funeral home and bring them to the church.” Persephone turned to leave, only to be brought up short by the man following her.

“That’s not acceptable Miss Kore. We have professional standards to uphold. We contract through you for the floral arrangements, but we could just as easily offer our clients silk if you choose to conduct business in such an unprofessional manner.”

Persephone stopped dead in her tracks, turning to glare at Mr. Pluton. “You paid for flowers. You have flowers. I’m sure you are more than capable of transporting those flowers less than a mile.”

“Of course, I am capable of it, Miss Kore. But it shouldn’t need to be done.” He stood, hands thrust deep in his coat pockets, eyeing her levelly.

“It was an honest mistake. You see, when we were all handling our affairs ourselves, there wasn’t such confusion. You want to hold funerals in five hundred different locations, it’s bound to happen once or twice.” Persephone thrust her fist into her hip, gesticulating with the empty bottle in her hand.

“I should hope it doesn’t happen again. Now I have to pull one of my workers to complete your job.”

“Oh, for crying out…” She trailed off, jamming the empty soda bottle into his chest. He grasped it, a look of mild confusion on his face as Persephone stomped off towards the towering façade of the funeral home. Aidoneus followed behind her, entering the dim interior of the building to find her attempting to gather up both vases at once.

“Miss Kore, please, allow me to help you.” He spoke softly, setting the bottle down on the reception desk.

“Oh, no.” She chuckled darkly “This was an _unforgivable offense_ , sir. I’ll have it sorted out straight away.” Persephone couldn’t help her sardonic tone. Who in the world did this man think he was? Too good to carry some flowers down the road. He managed to extricate one of the vases from her grasp, staring down at her with an absolutely unaccountable look on his face.

“I insist.” He spoke softly, the edges of his words no longer as sharp as they had been. Persephone blew an errant lock of hair out of her face, drawing her shoulders back and raising her chin.

“Fine.” She bit at him, turning to begin the short march to the church.

The pair walked in silence, Persephone trying to outpace him, but his longer stride kept him comfortably nearby as she scurried down the sidewalk.

“Do you grow all of these yourself?” Aidoneus asked, examining the blooms in his arms as he walked.

Persephone slowed her gait, allowing him to catch up to her. “I’m sorry were you speaking to me? The horrifyingly unprofessional florist?”

“I asked if you grow all these flowers yourself.” He gave her another one of those strange looks that sent shivers of something unfamiliar coursing through her.

“Yes. I’m sure you knew that. My shop has a greenhouse attached.” She dropped her antagonistic tone slightly. Maybe she didn’t need to be so acerbic.

“I don’t get out much.” He said simply. Reaching the church, Persephone stood at the door, staring expectantly at Aidoneus, her lips pursed in annoyance. He took the hint and opened the door to lead her inside the chapel to the altar. An empty stand stood, ready to receive the casket of Mrs. Larsson when the viewing was ready to begin. Small burled wood tables stood at either end. Aidoneus approached, placing his vase of flowers on one of them. Persephone followed his lead, depositing hers on the matching table

“Now, was that so hard?” She quipped at him.

“No. But unnecessary if your man had delivered them here in the first place.” He placed his hands back into his pockets, again giving her a coolly assessing once over.

Persephone glared at him. “A one-time mistake. And I certainly wouldn’t move to using silk or acetate flowers if I were you.”

“Why is that?” The corner of his mouth _almost_ wanted to smile.

“You need the live ones to cover the smell of all those vile chemicals.” At her grim statement she noticed his jaw set firm again.

“We take great pride in our work, Miss Kore. And it stands that your lapse in _your_ work could reflect poorly on us as a whole. Do not let it happen again.” The terse tone had returned to his voice. The automaton back in full effect.

“Well, I take pride in mine as well. You don’t need to be such a pill about it.” Again, that flicker of smile threatened to develop on his features. She wondered if he even knew how to smile. Maybe machines couldn’t smile.

“I thank you for your help setting things to rights, Miss Kore.”

Persephone waved her hand dismissively “It’s fine.” She turned to leave, glancing back once to call over her shoulder “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone you couldn’t do it on your own.”

As the chapel door closed behind her, she missed the small smile and laugh from the staid man, his professional demeanor flickering, if only for that moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title credit to the song “Death Comes To Town” by Pulp
> 
> Ina = cousin


	2. Apology?

Fading sunflowers greeted Persephone on her return home, their nodding heads lazily bobbing over the white picket fence. The front yard of her home was as wild as she, completely covered in phlox and echinacea interspersed with clumps of native grasses, now all waning in the late summer sun. Soon enough it would be time for the snows to pile deep around her home, snugging it in a blanket of cold and quiet. Already the evenings were becoming cooler, the creeping specter of the long winter reaching into the last fading days of a considerably late summer.

Persephone leaned on the chipped wooden gate, looking out over the long expanse of the prairie. Harvest would be completed soon, the wheat and corn removed to expand the view into the infinite stretch of the horizon. She breathed deeply, the scent of the withering phlox mixing with that of the earth in an intoxicating blend found nowhere else but this, her own little corner of the world.

A sudden reverberating banging noise from the backyard drew her attention and she followed it around the side of the house to find Artemis’ petite overall-clad form standing beyond the clothesline banging a palm on the flat bottom of a metal wash tub. “Shoo! Off with you!” she shouted, directing her ire at a raccoon sitting on the fence, eyeing her neutrally, unafraid of the cacophony. Persephone chuckled to herself, watching her cousin soundly admonish the local wildlife. The raccoon, finally growing tired of the flailing girl, leapt off the fence, disappearing into the tall grasses beyond the yard.

“The mighty huntress has won the day!” Persephone crowed dramatically, startling her cousin who turned to her with a vibrant blush creeping across her face. Artemis returned the metal tub to its place near the clothesline with a huff.

“Well, I caught him walking across the clothesline the other day.” She snorted, brushing a damp strand of hair from her forehead with the back of her wrist. Turning back to her task at hand, she placed a small handful of clothespins in her mouth and selected a damp, light pink nightgown from the washing basket.  
  
“Fair enough. I have no desire to have paw prints on my unmentionables.” Persephone paused, thinking briefly “That’s such a strange phrase, “unmentionables”. I mean, you are mentioning them just by saying it.” Artemis shot a disgruntled look at Persephone, mumbling around the wooden pegs in her lips. Persephone strode over to assist her, selecting a pale green lace trimmed example of her own “unmentionables” and handing it to Artemis to be clipped to the line.

“Sorry, didn’t catch that.” Persephone grinned at her cousin, eyes dancing with mischief.

Artemis withdrew the last pin from her mouth, fixing the green satin to the line. “I said, respectable ladies have no business mentioning undergarments anyhow.” She bent to pick up the empty woven basket, fitting it snugly to her hip.  
  
“Hmm. Good thing I’m not a respectable lady, and neither are you.” Persephone chirped, heading towards the rear door to their home. She held open the weathered screen door, allowing her cousin to blow past her into the back room off the kitchen to put away the washing basket and extra pins. Artemis took the opportunity to pull a rabbit down from the hook Persephone had installed for cleaning game. If nothing else, having her young cousin living with her resulted in a steady supply of fresh meat, and that meant something nowadays.

“Heard from your mother lately?” Persephone asked, flopping down into one of the faded, pale yellow dining chairs. The recent return of Aunt Athena to the city had allowed both Persephone and Artemis some breathing room. The constant censure around Artemis’ penchant for hunting out on the prairie and Persephone’s staunch refusal to relinquish her mother’s store was now kept at the comfortable distance of a weekly letter. Initially, Persephone was grateful for the company and love of her aunt following the death of her mother, but she was 23 now, Artemis being 15 herself. They could manage their lives just fine on their own.

Artemis rolled her eyes “Just more of the same. “When are you going to stop living like a heathen out there? I hope you aren’t still wearing pants every day. Have you gotten rid of all those knives yet? Does Persephone have any marriage prospects?” At the last statement she slid a wicked sidelong glance at her cousin “What should I tell her? That you’re marrying the town drunk and opening some kind of den of iniquity?”

Persephone glared at the teenager “You do, and I’ll give away all your trousers and hide your knives.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Artemis’ brows shot up, uncertain if Persephone was truly funning her or not.

Persephone laughed “And you wouldn’t tell your mom that crazy story you’ve concocted. She’d show up here in a second and bundle you back home and you know it.” She stood and moved to the small monitor top refrigerator, pulling out various vegetables to begin prepping for dinner. Artemis set herself to butchering the rabbit, depositing the pieces in a heavy cast iron skillet.

“Well, there was another thing. She still wants you to sell the store and move to Olympus.” Artemis said tentatively.

“I’m not giving up my mother’s store.” Persephone said flatly. On this point she wouldn’t bend. Demeter’s family was scandalized by her choice to leave society and fend for herself following her husband’s death, offering her only censure and disdain when she announced the decision. Persephone, for her part, could remember little of her time spent in Olympus. Asking her to renounce the shop and move away was tantamount to asking her to walk away from her entire life.

Artemis sighed “I know. I don’t think I’ll even answer that part. I don’t want to move back there either. She’d just make me wear those ridiculous dresses and start going to all the “proper” parties. I like it here.”

“Me too, kiddo.” Persephone said, earning a glare from her cousin. She very much liked to think herself completely independent even at her young age. Though, if Persephone had to give credit where it was due, Artemis could likely survive alone much longer than she could. Persephone finished her portion of the dinner preparation and retired back to the well-loved table, plucking an apple from the bowl in the center and rolling it idly between her palms.

Artemis looked at her over her shoulder, a mischievous smirk on her face “I’m not a kid anymore. Now I’m definitely telling her you’re marrying the town drunk.”

Persephone sighed and took a bite of her apple, beginning to speak with her mouth full “Can we just drop it? I had a bad day.”

“I thought you only had the one order today.”

“Yeah, Mrs. Larsson’s funeral arrangements. But I had Hermes bring them to the wrong place, so I wound up having to deal with the god of the dead.” Persephone grumbled.

“Don’t call him that, it’s blasphemous.” Artemis warned, curtly.

Persephone shrugged “Well he acts like he is. You know what I had to do? Carry the flowers from his big old mansion of creepiness to the church just down the street. He’s so full of himself he refused to do it until I started myself.”

“Well, that was kind of you to help.”

“Kind, nothing! He was talking like he was going to start telling folks to buy silk flowers! Silk! Like those nasty things can even compare to a real flower.” Persephone finished her apple, pitching the core into the compost bucket from her seat, grousing “Wasted half my day talking to that blue-eyed automaton.”

“You could stand to be nicer to him, you know. Your business depends on it at the moment.” Her cousin shot a smirk back at her “But, you noticed the color of his eyes?”

A violent blush crept across Persephone’s face “Hard not to when he insisted on lecturing me in the middle of town.” She snapped. Striding from the kitchen and Artemis’ inquisition she took refuge in the parlor. Slowly redecorating it since her mother’s death, Persephone was making the space her own. Shades of soft pink dominated the room, the curving mohair sofa and matching armchairs all the same rosy hue. The bookshelves built in around the fireplace were well stocked with all manner of literature from Artemis’ frightening gothic tales to Demeter’s old, worn copies of ancient Greek myths. A large portrait of her great aunt Hestia hung in place of prominence over the mantle, deep warm wood and gilt trim framing the sepia toned face. In place of pride was a gleaming wooden radio, half the height of Persephone herself, with softly curving art deco edges and shining knobs. Turning the knob with a soft click, the lighted dial flared to life, the speakers declaring _“From Hollywood, California! The Lux radio theater presents Frederic March and Florence Eldridge in “The Outsider” with Douglas Montgomery!”_ Persephone sighed and clicked the dial back off. She hadn’t cared for the movie version of the story and had no desire to listen to it at home.

“Of course, after the day I’ve had there wouldn’t be anything good on.” She muttered glumly. Striding to the bookshelf she placed one hand over her eyes, extending her other hand to select a book. She pulled a volume blindly off the shelf, finding herself holding a worn leather copy of “Wuthering Heights”. She scoffed and returned it to its place. “I have had enough of mysterious, grouchy men today, thank you.”

She flopped unceremoniously into one of the armchairs, staring at the wallpaper, tracing the design of green fans with her eyes. Perhaps Artemis was right that Persephone should at least be more cordial to Aidoneus. They had to at least maintain a working relationship for the sake of their clientele. It was completely without relevance that he was so very tall.

Or that his suits fit him so well.

Or that his voice sounded like it had been drenched in honey before it was given to him…

Persephone shook her head in attempt to dislodge thoughts of the reserved man, a hot blush creeping across her face. It really was no matter what he looked like when he was the owner of that charnel house anyway. She tipped her head back to rest on the soft, curved back of the chair with a sigh. Perhaps she could apologize. For professional reasons.

Artemis sauntered into the room, approaching the radio, she clicked it to life and spun the dial.  
  


“Nothing good on.” Persephone muttered.

“Nothing good, nothing! It’s game one today!” Artemis excitedly searched the dial for the sports announcer’s voice, finally blaring out of the speakers came, _“The crowds also cheered young Jack McCarthy, first basemen of the Giants, when he put several long drives into right field stands. They said, “Well look at who we got here, this boy is right up there with Gehrig and DiMaggio!””_

“The Tigers didn’t even make it this year anyway.” Persephone groused. Artemis had latched on to the Detroit club since none existed in their little neck of the woods. Artemis flopped down in the matching armchair and slung her legs over the arm, dangling her head back to look at Persephone upside down.

“I know. But now I just want the Yanks to lose.” She grinned, her overturned face flushing from the angle.

“Fat chance with DiMaggio and Gehrig playing. They took it last year.” The national anthem played through the speaker, a distant tinny noise, signaling the start of Artemis’ highly anticipated evening. Persephone hauled herself from her chair, heading back through the kitchen to the back yard, the announcer’s voice fading into the background before being soundly blocked out by the sounds of the midwestern outdoor evening.

Persephone worked her way along the rose hedges lining the side of the yard, delicately tapping spent blooms to allow the faded petals to fall, leaving the hips for birds and animals’ winter forage. She allowed her mind to wander and was dismayed that it again wanted to wander to the icy stare of the unapproachable Aidoneus. She had never given much thought to getting involved in romantic entanglements. Once upon a time, Aunt Athena had pressed her into accepting a proposal from a man of “good standing” from Olympus. Persephone, never being able to shake a pervasive feeling of dismay, broke that betrothal nearly as quickly as it had been accepted. No man had ever proven himself to be worth her time.

Another rose shed its petals beneath the tap of her fingertips.

Even if Aidoneus was nice to look at, he was unfeeling, cold, and endlessly frustrating to deal with. And besides, Persephone would never be able to overlook the sheer greed and mendacity of his occupation either. Any person who marked up the cost of grief simply didn’t bear thinking of. The inhumanity of character was plain as day. She continued dead heading the roses, working along the hedge into the front yard, the umbrellas of petals on the bobbing echinacea teasing at her calves as she threaded her way through the riotous growth. The small hairs on the back of her neck raised in alert, and Persephone debated between simply ignoring at and heading back into the house or turning to investigate.

Curiosity winning out, she turned to face the very last person she wanted to see right now.

“Miss Kore, may I speak with you?” Aidoneus asked levelly. He still looked as cool and pressed as he had this morning, his apparent immunity to the midday heat further confirming Persephone’s classification of him as a robot.

“I can’t imagine you have anything further to say to me, Mr. Pluton.” She snipped, returning to her work with the roses. Aidoneus moved around the white picket fence, hesitating momentarily before setting foot into the grasses off the sidewalk. Persephone was pleased that both the roses and the fence stood between them. Barriers were safe.

“But I do, miss.” His cold demeanor flickered slightly, an expression of anxiety flitting across his features before disappearing as though it had never been “I have been told that I owe you an apology.”

Persephone barked with laughter “The fact that you needed someone to tell you that says you aren’t sorry at all.” She shook her head, keeping her attention on the task at hand, more faded petals falling at her touch.

“I have very… exacting standards, Miss Kore. When I feel that something has fallen short of them, I can become somewhat harsh.” Aidoneus offered.

Persephone rested her small fists on her hips, staring at the unaccountable man before her “Wow. This is shaping up to be one terrible apology.” She stared him down as calmly as she could, some part of her hoping he would be truly kind, only to have that flickering hope of civility soundly snuffed out.

“I am sorry I forced you to correct your mistake.”

“Yep. Terrible apology.” Persephone huffed, stalking back through the yard, leaving him alone at the fence.

She slammed the screen door open, stalking her way into the house. The radio continued _“Johnny McCarthy. First year as a regular with the Giants. They like him here, in New York. He’s getting a nice hand as he steps into the batter’s box…”_ Persephone took a moment to tend the food on the stove, slamming the lid back on to the pot somewhat more forcefully than intended. Artemis poked her head into the kitchen to investigate the source of the noise, a hissing breath escaping her at the sight of her cousin angrily thundering around the kitchen.

“What’s got a bee in your bonnet?” she asked, a masked laugh in her voice. It wasn’t often that Persephone was this heated, and the reason was bound to be good.

“That... that... _man._ ” Persephone spat “If he even is a man!” she added with a wave of her hand at the front of the house.

“Johnny McCarthy?” Artemis asked with a brow raised and a sly smirk.

Persephone glared at her “You’re not as funny as you think you are. No! That Pluton man. I was out tending the roses and he showed up to “apologize”.”

“How dare he!” Artemis gasped, clutching the front of her overalls in a show of faux scandalization.

“Well, it was no apology. “I’m sorry I made you fix your mistake”?! Who does that man think he is?!” Persephone whipped a dishtowel at the sink with a huff.

Artemis laughed “I suppose next time you see him you’ll just have to ask him that. Or throw a towel at him.”

“God willing there won’t _be_ a next time.” Persephone sighed, pulling herself back to calm “I’ll just have to make certain I know which venue is which in the future, and I can just keep up with Hermes delivering, and I’ll never have to see him.”

She met her cousin’s gaze to find dark eyes twinkling with mischief “Oh boy, you’ve got it bad, sister.”

“I’ve got nothing of the sort. He’s just a completely infuriating, greedy, arrogant, patronizing… jerk!” Persephone finished with a shriek.

“With blue eyes.” Artemis quipped, ducking back into the living room to remove herself from the line of fire.

Persephone collapsed into a dining chair, resting her forehead in her hands. Startling blue eyes or not, she was certain she wanted nothing to do with him. She had worked too long and hard for her business to be contingent on the work of such a terrible person, but it was unavoidable. She ran through every possibility in her mind that would allow her to have no contact with him and came up dreadfully blank. Like it or not, their businesses would be in contact for as long as people wanted flowers for their dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Radio credit to the September 20th, 1937 radio broadcast of Lux Radio Theatre https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4O-cf50uR_0  
> and the first game of the 1937 World Series (the Yankees won both that individual game, and the series as a whole).  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=04EruRX1WRU&t=2310s


	3. The Business of Dying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: depiction of embalming practices.

Aidoneus watched the small, fiery woman stalking away from him, eddies of petals knocked from the fading phlox as she stormed past. He waited for a moment, half expecting her to turn on her heel and return to lay into him again, but the sound of the screen door slamming in the back yard soundly dashed that thought. With a sigh, he picked his way through the tall grasses along Persephone’s property back to the sidewalk. _I knew this was a bad idea_ , he mentally chastised himself. Trying to approach her again was doomed to failure, and likely now only served to make their working relationship more strained.

Stuffing his hands deeply into his pockets he began to make his way back to the center of town. The streets were blessedly deserted, most other residents at home for dinner or various methods of passing the time as the sun threatened to complete its descent below the horizon. One year in this town was beginning to feel like an eternity, though a necessary one. The business of death was in full swing and locations to build a mortuary were in high demand. At the very least, this town was close enough to the city of Olympus to facilitate supply and the occasional day trip when one grew tired of watching nothing but grain waving in the wind or the occasional movie at the cinema palace.

It was with no small amount of irritation that his thoughts turned to the cinema. For the amount of censure and distain Aidoneus encountered surrounding his business venture, his brother’s movie palace was welcomed with open arms and not just a little loved by all. He couldn’t really fault the townsfolk for that. The depression had hit everyone in the nation soundly in the gut, leaving the populace feeling the weight of their lives in earnest. Thoughts of death were already everywhere as people struggled, the constant sight of starving livestock an unquestionable reminder of their own impending departure off of the mortal coil. As much as Aidoneus served a need that no one wanted to mention within the community, Bruce had swooped in taking care of the towns wants and dreams in the form of romance, drama and action. It was natural that his brother would be greeted with bright eyes and jovial voices while Aidoneus was often afforded a cursory nod and an averted gaze. Natural, understandable, but still isolating and lonely.

Part of Aidoneus missed Olympus. It was harder to feel the crushing weight of loneliness and censure when you were surrounded by others constantly. Harder, but not impossible. Having the last name of Pluton meant something in Olympus. Even if people were leery of his work, that was kept somewhat under wraps. Here in Lore, many disliked him and, having no society matrons to impress and few social conventions they needed to uphold, they made little secret of that fact. Here, his name meant little aside from the brass letters on a sign outside the opulent mortuary. He thought it had been a natural business move to contract with the local florist in the hopes that it would show some good faith. Some attempt to become one of them, but the young woman was contrary and at times deliberately obtuse.

She was also startlingly beautiful.

Not in the way of the young women entering social circles in Olympus, bred and dressed for show like prized peacocks, but in the way the earth itself is beautiful. Undeniable, shocking, and simply one facet of her whole being. Aidoneus found his mind wandering to her over and over again after he had initially met her. She didn’t present airs, or deliberately try to impress anyone, sometimes to the point of her personal detriment. Conversing with her was completely unpredictable, her moods vacillating between her obvious ire with him and a soft humor and lilting laugh that left him craving to hear it again. He sighed in frustration as he stalked back to the funeral home. All thoughts of Persephone beyond the professional could cease immediately. Her distaste for him was so painfully plain that it was an exercise in complete futility.

On opening the heavy wooden door to the funeral home, Aidoneus was greeted with a waft of cigar smoke and a set of smooth leather shoe soles propped up on the reception area desk next to the green glass lampshade. Raucous trumpet and strident clarinet sounds laid over a driving drumbeat came pouring from the radio on the sideboard at a volume nearing a deafening level. He quickly strode to the smooth mahogany box and resolutely turned the knob, silencing the music with a soft click.

“I was listening to that.” Bruce said, his words warped around the cigar clamped in his teeth. He was reclined in the chair, his thumbs hooked in his suspenders, coat discarded god only knew where, his shirt sleeves rolled up and no tie in sight.

“I noticed. Get your feet off my reception desk. What if I had been a client? They come in to find you treating the place like your personal den. You can conduct your business in any way you choose, but please refrain from giving mine a bad name.” Aidoneus glared down at his brother.

Bruce dropped his feet back to the floor, sitting up and fetching his small tumbler of amber liquor off the desk, took a hearty belt. “What’s got you all bent out of shape?”

Aidoneus withdrew a clean handkerchief from his pocket and began wiping down the polished wood of the desktop. “Oh, I don’t know, Bruce. I come back to find you treating my funeral home like a jazz club? That might have something to do with it.”

“Nah, you stalked in here with your own personal little rain cloud.” Bruce took a long pull off his cigar, tipping his head back to blow a steady stream of smoke at the ceiling. “Let me guess? It’s got to do with a little fierce dame that smells like flowers?” He slid a mischievous look at his older brother, the look crossing Aidoneus’ face indicating he’d landed his shot. “You really gonna let that little twist get you all worked up?”

“Don’t call her that.” Aidoneus sighed, knowing he’d showed his hand “But yes. I took Don’s advice. He told me to go apologize to her for a misunderstanding this morning and she wouldn’t hear it.”

Bruce laughed, standing from the desk chair he strode to him, pointing two fingers at his brother “Let me guess, she smacked you one?”

Aidoneus clenched his jaw, sorely tempted to smack Bruce one. “No. She just said I was terrible and left.” He took his place in the vacated seat, beginning to reorganize the chaos Bruce had created “Quit taking the matchbooks. There’s a lighter in the drawer.”

“A lighter for a stogie? Not likely.” He idly flipped the cover of the pilfered advertisement matchbook open and shut in his fingers. “So, Persephone hates you?”

“She’s very upset with me. I think.” Aidoneus rested his elbows on the desk, cradling his head in his hands “You know I don’t speak to others well. I shouldn’t have listened to Don.”

“Why do you even care? She’s just the flower girl.” Bruce paced over to the radio, turning it back on, a smooth baritone voice crooning into the room _“it’s all too wonderful, I’ll never find the words…”_ Bruce’s face lit up and he spun to face Aidoneus “That’s it!” he pantomimed dancing with a partner for a moment before winking at him “You’ve got a crush on her!”

Aidoneus blanched “Not at all.” He said tersely.

Bruce crowed with laughter “Took you long enough! Pretty low class, but she could be dishy without all the dirt on her dress.”

“Please don’t talk about her like that. And Miss Kore looks fine the way she is.” Aidoneus glared at Bruce, his patience with him rapidly waning “Not that it matters. I’m not interested in her like that.” He finished quickly, hoping to end the conversation. Bruce stubbed his cigar out in the heavy crystal ashtray on the desk, leaning through the trails of smoke, brow raised.

“You keep telling yourself that, pal.” He briefly disappeared into the other room, returning with his missing coat, tie and hat. “I gotta go. Hera is holding down the fort for me at the Palace. I just came to tell you that she expects you for dinner this Sunday. No excuses.”

“I’ll see. I can’t just disappear from here whenever I want.”

“Why did you even bother bringing Enodia with you from Olympus if you can’t trust her to run the joint?” Bruce shrugged into his coat before smoothing his hair and angling his hat onto his head.

“She handles the preparation. I’m the face of the company.” Aidoneus tapped a stack of paper fans together, seating them into a box. With winter coming it was doubtful they would be needed for some time.

“Fat lot of good that’s done your social life, pal.” Bruce touched two fingers to the brim of his hat by way of parting before heading out the door to his cinema and his wife.

It was hardly fair for Bruce to give Aidoneus any censure over his love life. Years ago, he had been betrothed to Hera. Thankfully, they had both realized the poor match well before the wedding day and had called it all off. Nonetheless, it was a shock to the gut when his own brother had stepped in to claim her. It would be one thing entirely if Bruce could be considered a good husband, but his penchant for disappearing to Olympus and taking up with any manner of woman soundly discounted that. Aidoneus had watched as Hera had evolved from a bright eyed, vibrant woman into someone hardened and cold, her maltreatment at the hands of her husband indelibly changing her.

Aidoneus stared off at the gilt sconce on the wall, lost in his own thoughts. There must be a way to make amends with Persephone. He mused over the idiocy of sending flowers to a florist as light piano music filled the air. Perhaps a simple letter would do. Sliding open the desk drawer he withdrew a sheet of paper, delicately headed with the information of the mortuary and set himself to crafting one.

_Dear Miss Kore,_

_It seems I owe you more than one apology now. I would like to first tell you that I find you to be a very competent florist with a good sense of what our clientele need. Working with you up to this point has never failed to please._

_That being said, I would be remiss if I did not apologize for the manner in which I approached you this morning. I was frustrated by the circumstance and should not have laid that at your feet. Likewise, my attempt to speak to you this evening wound up doing the same. I do have very exacting expectations of people and an unfortunate lack of skill in communicating them._

He scanned over what he had written as the reedy tenor voice emanating from the radio admonished _“…but you’re as cold as yesterday’s mashed potatoes…”_ Aidoneus shot up, storming over the radio, switching it back off. “That’s quite enough of that, Mr. Astaire.” He muttered under his breath. He was right though. Cold, indeed. He returned to the desk, snatching up the letter and soundly crumpling it into a ball and pitching it into the small wastebasket. The soft sound of footsteps shook him from his self-loathing as Enodia strode into the reception area. She was flipping through a small sheaf of paper and spoke without looking up.

“Sir, I am looking for the Jensen funeral plan. I have him on my table. I need to know what coffin to pull.” She stopped short of the desk, meeting his gaze.

“I believe it was the National copper, but I have the plan in my office.” Aidoneus led his assistant through the unassuming door in the rear to the cold sterility of the inner workings of the mortuary, the sound of their footfalls echoing strangely off the bright white tile walls and floor. His office was situated at the halfway point of the hall, a central point from which to monitor the entirety of the funeral home. Unlike the opulence of the reception area, his personal office was furnished somewhat plainly, nothing within it meant for comfort or to impress onlookers. Rifling through the wooden filing cabinet, he extracted the contract for the upcoming funeral. “Yes, National, in copper.” He read off to Enodia.

Her brows rose in surprise “Rather expensive that one. I had no idea the Jensens could afford that.”

She did have a point. The Jensen farm had been particularly hard hit with the droughts. They had changed from corn to wheat as many farms did, but the plummeting crop prices made that effort too little, too late. Aidoneus shrugged “They paid for it all the same. It’s not my concern how.”

Enodia pursed her lips in distaste “There are plenty of cheaper options, Mr. Pluton. Couldn’t you have suggested one of those?”

“And run the risk of offending the family. Yes.” He stared levelly at her “It’s none of my business what people decide, simply to provide it.”

“Yes, sir” Enodia answered, her tone clipped. She strode down the hall to her embalming room to begin the task of preparing the young man for his final rest.

Aidoneus scanned the contract again, searching for the section on floral arrangements. One large arrangement in shades of yellow and white. He pushed down the hope that swelled in him that Persephone would be the one to deliver it. It was far more likely to be the taciturn young man she employed. He sighed, filing the contract back away and followed Enodia down the hall.

The door to the embalming room was somewhat larger than the others, sized to allow any manner of coffin or transport of decedents. The room shone brightly, all white sterility, under the huge light hung over the embalming table. A wide countertop wrapped around the room, laden with all manner of size, shape and color glass bottles, labels proclaiming things like “Clarotone. For use removing discoloration caused by Methylene Blue”. Cosmetics were spread nearby, all shades of life to mask those of death. Enodia’s black leather tool bag sat on a small task table as she efficiently removed the items she would need. The mechanical embalming pump sat at the ready, it’s flywheel shining. The white ceramic table in the center of the room already held its charge, a broad white sheet covering him from head to toe.

“Something else I can help you with, Sir?” Enodia asked, busying herself turning the spotless white sheet down off the young man’s face. A grey toned facade reposed as if sleeping, jaw slack, brown hair beginning to lose its luster. Aidoneus felt a shock of sadness rush through him. David Jensen had yet to even reach twenty years old, a sudden farming accident taking his life entirely too soon. These funerals were sometimes the harder ones to handle, families weeping and keening for the life snuffed out before its time, the one-two punch of youth and suddenness amplifying everything.

“Not as such.” He spoke quietly, a habit he had picked up ages ago, as though boisterous noise would disturb the dead. Enodia donned a pair of long rubber gloves, a small face mask and reached for her scalpel, making a slight incision through which to access the carotid. Inserting a wide metal catheter, she switched on the embalming pump which spun to life, the channels of the table soon running pink as the body simultaneously filled and drained.

“What do you think of the young woman we get the flowers from?” he asked tentatively. Enodia glanced up at him, holding Mr. Jensens hand to monitor the texture change.

“She makes beautiful arrangements. Did you know she grows everything herself?” she answered him, voice slightly muffled behind her mask.

“Yes, I am aware.” Aidoneus jammed his hands in his pockets “I meant a-as a person. Do you know much about her?”

Enodia shrugged, placing David’s hand gently on his chest and lifting the sheet to check his foot. “I don’t get out much. I buy game off her cousin sometimes.”

Aidoneus nodded, chewing his bottom lip in thought. “I need to find a way to apologize to her for being rather…” he trailed off searching for the word.

“Inhuman?” she briefly glanced up with a wry smile before returning her attentions to the task at hand.

“I was going to say demanding, but I suppose that too.”

Enodia scoffed “Knowing you, you said too much and insulted her?”

Aidoneus sighed, running a hand back over his hair “Something like that.”

Flipping a switch, Enodia stilled the embalming machine. She peeled off her mask and rested her fists on her hips. “Well, if you want to keep a good working relationship, just say “I’m sorry”. An apology doesn’t need a bunch of five-dollar words to work.” She deftly pulled the metal tubing from the young man’s neck with a small dribble of pinkish fluid. “Of course, if you’re looking for something _else_ from her…” she trailed off slyly, eyeing Aidoneus with a raised brow.

He scoffed “You know I don’t merit the time of day around here.”

“Sure, but do you want to?”

Enodia’s question gave him serious pause. He leaned against the counter and assessed the situation.

Was he really happy, isolated and alone as he was?

The answer came almost too rapidly for comfort. No. He hated it. A deep, viscerally human part of him longed for a real connection with someone… But did he want it to be Persephone Kore? Again, his mind leapt on the possibility and he cursed under his breath.

He did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song credits to:
> 
> "Sing, Sing, Sing" by Benny Goodman  
> "Too Marvelous For Words" by Bing Crosby and Jimmy Dorsey  
> "A Fine Romance" by Fred Astaire


	4. A Friendly Ear

Persephone petulantly kicked a small rock from her path as she made her way down the sidewalk. The few street lamps in town were already aglow, the warm yellow light fighting valiantly against the falling dark. A chill wind whipped past Persephone, coaxing her to clutch the panels of her coat closer to her body. Winter was certainly knocking on the door. The indulgence of mother nature to afford them such a late summer now seemed cruel staring down the threat of the countless grey, bitterly cold months ahead.

At least the streets were blessedly vacant, allowing Persephone ample time to lose herself in her own thoughts. Today could not have gone worse unless she had put a valiant effort into it, and the evening ahead was sorely needed. Looking up, she found herself standing in front of the Lore Palace. Though it was certain to be small by cinema standards, it housed enough seats for the entirety of their small town populace and Bruce Pluton had spared absolutely no expense in the build of it. The façade of the building towered over those nearby, the top of it tiered almost like a pyramid. Richly colored tile designs of fans and Greek key motifs shone softly in the glow cast by the lighting of the signage, formal art deco lettering simply proclaiming “ _The Palace_ ” in warm golden light. The broad white changeable marquee below advertising,

Conquest  
Greta Garbo Charles Boyer

Persephone bypassed the front entrance, working her way down the dim alley alongside the building to the door labelled “Staff ONLY” in black stenciled lettering. Rapping delicately with her knuckles, she pulled the door open, with a soft call of “knock knock” into the dim interior. The room was almost aggressively masculine, all dark wood and smoke tinged jewel tones. A slightly disheveled waterfall of blonde hair popped up from behind a wide mahogany bar at the sound of her voice. Hera spun to face her friend; a hand placed over her heart.

“Oh! Persephone. You’re early! I just about keeled over!” she huffed, brushing her hair from her face.

“Sorry.” Persephone said, voice layered with chagrin as she stripped off her coat, hanging it on the curved rack near the door. “I just wanted to get out. The past few days have been fantastically awful.”

Hera nodded, a serious look falling over her face. “I see. Then you must choose. Now, this choice may change the course of history as you know it, so choose wisely.”

Persephone scoffed and strode to the bar “I am ready to change history. What’s the deal?”

Two bottles were hefted onto the counter, Hera spinning the labels to face Persephone. “Champagne, or gin?”

“The week I’ve had? Gin. May history not suffer for it.” Proclaimed Persephone with a laugh, grasping the bottle around the neck.

“Oh my. Well, we will do our level best to fix that!” Hera declared, gathering a metal ice bucket and threading her fingers into two glasses. “Popcorn is already in place, and the film is set to go.” She rounded the bar and led Persephone into the darkened theater space.

Soon after the Pluton family had arrived in town, Persephone and Hera had gravitated to one another. Hera was what she liked to call a “reformed jazz girl”, though she could and would still drink and dance the night away if given half the chance and maintained her penchant for dresses that bordered on causing a scene. Between that and Persephone’s eccentricities, the town matrons’ tongues remained firmly wagging in regard to their friendship, not that either woman particularly minded. Hera had proposed a weekly movie night and Persephone had been fast to agree. They would take the entire theatre to themselves after closing, choose whatever film they liked from the library of canisters, drink, eat, laugh and generally enjoy each other’s company. It was their time to commiserate, vent their grievances and decompress from their lives.

The pair carefully trod through the soft light of the theatre, the red velvet proscenium and gilt moldings along the walls and ceiling all blending into the same shadowy color in the dim. Persephone settled herself in the plush red velvet seat, accepting the proffered glass from Hera. “What movie did you pull?”

Hera placed ice in each of their glasses, following it with a somewhat more than healthy tot of gin. “ _It Happened One Night_ ”

“Again?” Persephone sipped her drink, letting the alcohol buzz its way firmly into her gut.

“Any excuse to watch a shirtless Clark Gable.” Hera said with a mischievous eyebrow waggle at her before kicking her feet up on the seat back in front of her. “Ok, Sam! Roll it!” She hollered over her shoulder to the projection booth. A snapping sound rang out and a flash of the bulb illuminated dust motes dancing in the air as the projector churned to life. Rousing trumpet fanfare and the torch bearing Columbia Pictures figurehead came flaring to life as the film began. Persephone fetched the pouch of popcorn from the nearby seat and tossed a few fluffy kernels into her mouth. “One of these days we’re gonna get busted you know.” She said around her mouthful of popcorn.

“Hays code only applies for showings to the _public_. We are not the public.” Hera chuckled. She particularly liked to dig out the more sordid films in their collection, those from before the morality codes became an inescapable figure in cinema.

“As long as it’s not any more like that _Vampire Bat_.” Persephone said with a shiver. “That one scared me all week.”

Hera barked with laughter “Oh, come on! That one isn’t that bad!”

“You aren’t the one who has to walk home alone afterwards!” Persephone shot back.

“Fair enough. Ugh. Even all drunk and disheveled, that is a good-looking man.” Hera nodded at the screen at Clark Gable making his way through the aisle of a bus.

Persephone shrugged, squinting at the screen. “Not my type. Plus, I hear he’s a bit of a cad in real life.”

“Honey, I hate to break it to you, but they almost all are.” Hera took a vigorous slug of her drink “I still say that Claudette up there has it made.”

“If they’re all cads why are you so insistent that I get married? Isn’t that a bit like advocating playing with matches?” Persephone shucked her shoes off and placed her feet up on the seat back in front of her. For months Hera had been haranguing her about finding someone to marry. To a certain point she had done well rebuffing the conversation since there was no one she was even vaguely interested in. To a certain point.

“Well getting married is the best way to have easy access to a match _stick_ you know.” Hera chuckled, eliciting a bark of laughter from Persephone as well.

“You are an absolute panic!” Persephone took another generous swig of her drink “I can’t imagine there’s a matchstick in the world worth the headache.”

Hera slid a mischievous look at her friend over the rim of her glass “That’s where you’re wrong. The right one starts a great big fire.” She suddenly sat bolt upright hollering at the screen “Yes! We need to know your method for undressing Mr. Gable! Teach us all about it!” as the actor teasingly removed his clothing, much to the chagrin of his demure costar.

Persephone shook her head with a smirk. “I get to pick next week.” She muttered.

“Well, I’m sure we can find something up your alley. Maybe some leading man that’s impossibly tall, impeccably dressed, and just a little socially awkward?” Hera asked with a giggle. Persephone thanked god for the venue, the dark room hiding the look of total chagrin that cast across her face at the description.

“I’m sure I have no idea what you are talking about.” She said darkly, staring at the dim light glimmering in her glass. “And besides, _that_ is what men want. Someone to fawn over them. Someone demure and helpless and needy.” She continued, gesturing at the doe-eyed actress on the screen. “I am most certainly none of those things.”

“I think you might be surprised. Bruce told me there’s someone in town who just might be in the market for someone who is none of those things.”

Persephone choked on her drink, eyes watering as she coughed. “Oh no. No no no.” she wheezed. Her mind couldn’t help but leap to the one person it had no business considering.

“Oh yes.” Hera drawled, her tone more than a little lascivious.

“Pure impossibility. He hates me. I told you about that insulting apology! That’s what he thinks of me.”

Hera tossed a small handful of popcorn in her mouth “I didn’t even say who, Persephone. You filled that bit in all on your own.” She swung her small foot back and forth in time with the drunken sailor on the screen singing “ _The Man on the Flying Trapeze_ ”. The scene quickly devolved into a young boy sobbing over his mother and recounting a tale of starvation to Mr. Gable.

“That.” Persephone jabbed her glass at the screen “That’s another thing. What kind of man takes advantage of the poor and grieving? Selling them nothing but fancy boxes and stinking chemicals when they really need help?” Her head was beginning to properly swim with her drink. “Fancy, big city funerals for starving farmers.” She finished her rant dolefully.

“I was engaged to him once, you know?” Hera said bluntly.

Persephone’s jaw dropped “You and Aidoneus?” she whispered incredulously. Hera nodded, but offered no further comment on the matter. Persephone stewed in silence for a bit before relenting. “Fine. I’ll bite. Why didn’t you marry him?”

Hera sighed, tipping her head back on the seat “He was lovely. Kind. Considerate. But frankly, to a fault. He’s so proper. So concerned with right and wrong all the time. I wanted someone who couldn’t help themselves around me. Someone burning for me. Something more exciting. Unfortunately, that same man can’t help himself across the board.” She finished, her opinion of her husband sour in her throat.

“And you think that automaton would be a good fit for me? That’s rather rude.” Persephone chuckled.

“That’s the thing!” Hera said excitedly, shifting in her seat to face Persephone “Bruce says he was downright _shaken_ when he mentioned you. Now, I’ve never once known Aidoneus to be shaken about anything. That has to stand for something, right?”

Persephone stared at the broad screen, an extreme close up of Gable and Colbert staring deeply into one another in a pile of straw dominating the screen. “That’s not how it works.” Persephone said softly, nodding at the screen “People who hate each other don’t suddenly wake up one day in love with one another. That only happens up there.”

“I’m not exactly hearing hate from you. Just misunderstandings, perhaps?”

“He’s very good looking. I’ll admit that. But I can’t see my way to overlooking his business model and the way he treats people. People aren’t just numbers. He doesn’t see humans with lives and dreams and struggles. He sees a big ledger full of dollar signs at all times.”

“I think you’d be surprised if you got to know him.” Hera said softly.

“Well, there’s no risk of that. I’m sure I got that particular point across today.”

“You talked to him today? Way to bury the lead!” Hera quipped.

“Not exactly…” Persephone trailed off, her mind dredging up the memory of the day to recount the embarrassing tale to Hera.

The only order due for the week was for the funeral home, and she had made good and certain to have it completed on time and double checked where it was meant to be delivered to. The real hiccup occurred when Hermes had arrived, not to deliver it, but to tell her he was leaving for the week. The change in the weather meant it was time for him to go hunting. His tribe didn’t schedule things the way that the white settlers did, often only deciding it was time for something to occur once that time had come.

Normally this cultural difference was no problem at all to work around, and Persephone was glad to do so, but at the moment she found herself desperate for Hermes to be her buffer between her and the staid Mr. Pluton. No amount of pleading managed to persuade him to wait to make that last run, leaving Persephone to bring the towering vase down the road herself. She had been the walking personification of anxious energy entering the quiet interior of the funeral home. To her initial relief, a svelte woman with a severe bob and a matching severe aspect had been the only person present.

Enodia. Persephone had learned her name was Enodia. She was the one who did the real work with the dead.

“How may I help you?” She spoke to Persephone with a brow cocked in something like a mix of curiosity and mirth.

“Hi. I’m Persephone Kore. Just delivering the arrangement for the Jensen funeral.” She gingerly placed the vase on the reception area desk and extended her hand in greeting. Enodia simply stared at her.

“Oh. You are pretty indeed.” Enodia said, a smirk dancing across her face. Persephone blanched a the… compliment? Was that a compliment? It felt more like being assessed by a spider as a meal prospect.

“I-I thank you?” Persephone stammered. She wrung her hands nervously behind her back as the thin woman tilted her head and continued her silent judgement.

“Do you want to speak to the boss?” Enodia asked, her voice more crooning lullaby than question. If there ever was such a thing as hypnotism, Persephone was certain this woman knew how to manage it.

Persephone opened her mouth to answer her, only for Aidoneus to enter the room, papers firmly in hand, speaking to his assistant without looking up, and the words died in her throat. Her heart leapt dangerously at the sight of him, much to her personal disgust. _He’s handsome, but he’s effectively a crook!_ _Stop that!_ She shifted to leave and to her horror, had drawn his attention, those piercing blue eyes wide with surprise.

“Miss Kore. I had expected the young man you employ.” His voice, entirely more attractive than it had any right to be sent a frisson of something through her. She felt her face heating violently, inwardly cursing her treacherous body. Backing away from the threat he represented she clipped her hip into the desk, sending the vase swaying madly. She but narrowly caught it, sending water splashing down the front of her blouse. She glanced down at her top, finding it now disturbingly transparent.

She groaned inwardly remembering the way she had kept her back to him, brusquely snapping “Well, sorry, it’s not!” before swiftly leaving the building, moving at a strange angle to hide the chemise now visible through her blouse and leaving her intention of behaving professionally in tatters behind her.

“So, you dumped the flowers and ran away?” Hera asked, a brow raised, and a laugh barely concealed in her voice.

“Yeah. So even _if_ he had been thinking fondly of me, or even _if_ I could look past the fact that he’s nothing but a handsome vulture, now I look like I’m bonkers.” Persephone said sadly, draining her glass.

“Well, if you don’t want him anyway, that’s fine!” Hera waved her hand dismissively before fishing a cigarette from her pocket.

Persephone leaned to the side, resting her head on her hand, and sighed. “A week ago, I would have told you for certain that I didn’t. I still feel fairly certain I don’t. But If I don’t, why do I feel so awful about it all?”

Hera shrugged “Because hearts are fickle, beastly little things. They so rarely do what you would like them to.”

“That is a categorical fact.”

“Is there some other reason you’re fighting it so badly? I can assure you that you are wrong about Aidoneus whether you believe it or not. And it’s pure bunk that no one would want to marry you and you know it. You are absolutely stunning; you have your own business and you’ve got a keen brain in that pretty head too.”

“My keen brain is exactly it. I can imagine the first of it would be great. Lots of promises to love and cherish. After a while it’s all about having kids. Running a house. Being a proper lady under the magnifying glass of society.” She spat the phrase with absolute disgust “What about my shop? My family is champing at the bit for me to sell it and move to Olympus. Any man would likely do the same. It doesn’t bear thinking about. Artemis and I will be fine on our own.”

“I think you make an awful lot of suppositions.” Hera said flatly.

Persephone sighed deeply “Then what do you suppose I do?”

Hera drummed her nails on the side of her glass “Well, I suppose getting to know him wouldn’t go amiss. I really think you might be surprised…” she trailed off with a shrug.

“Somehow I firmly doubt that.” Persephone groused, curling up smaller in the seat and turning her attention back to the hopeful romance blossoming on the wide screen in the dark. The leading man on the screen hung a blanket between himself and the demure actress, their personal Wall of Jericho, now frankly rendered useless by their burgeoning affection. Mr. Gable began a quiet monologue, “ _Sure, I’ve thought about it. Who hasn’t?_ ” …

Love. It really didn’t bear thinking of. Least of all with that Pluton man.

“What could be the worst that could happen?” Hera asked quietly, intruding on Persephone’s circling thoughts.

She could get her hopes up.

No, that sort of thing only happened in the pictures. It wouldn’t do to get her hopes too high only to have them dashed. But even as Persephone tried to believe that, in the back of her mind she knew.

The walls of Jericho were indeed falling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Movie quotes and references are from Frank Capra's "It Happened One Night" with Claudette Colbert and Clark Gable. HIGHLY recommended watching.


	5. Trappings of Goodbye

Heavy drumming of feet ascending the stairs preceded Artemis’ arrival in Persephone’s room before she swung through the door with the kind of morose energy that only a 15-year-old could harness.  
  
“You look nice!” Persephone exclaimed, giving her cousin an appreciative once over. Artemis had traded in her usual overalls or jeans for a flowing pair of wide legged dress trousers in a soft black and a similarly colored button up blouse.  
  
“Yeah, don’t get used to it. It’s just for David.” Artemis muttered glumly, as she flopped down on the edge of Persephone’s bed. She met her cousin’s gaze for a moment in the round vanity mirror before quickly looking away. Persephone knew today was going to be hard for the young woman. This would be the first funeral she attended for someone of her own age. Part of Persephone desperately wanted to stay home herself, but she had promised the family that they would attend.  
  
Persephone added small drops of water to her mascara cake and swirled the brush around, creating a rich ebony paste. “Well, I am sure he would appreciate the effort. He was a nice kid.” She busied herself applying the remainder of her makeup and straightened an errant finger wave with her brush. “Would you like anything special done with your hair?”

Artemis shook her head and spoke softly “Just gonna braid it like usual.”

Persephone nodded at her cousin’s reflection and set her small black velveteen hat on her head, pinning it in place. The delicate black feather perched in the brim wavered slightly with her deep sigh. Funerals were unpleasant at the best of times, but services now meant having to put herself face to face with Aidoneus. It had only been a few days since she had seen him, clumsily poured water on herself and run away and she was in no hurry to see him again. Had she not promised the family she would attend the memorial, she would happily hide out in her shop for the day. Snapping the cap back on to her lipstick she assessed her handiwork in the mirror one last time before loading essentials into a small handbag. Hopefully she could quell the obvious anxiety in her eyes before they arrived.

Turning on the vanity stool, she crooked a finger to beckon Artemis closer. The young woman faced the window and dropped to her knees in front of Persephone, wordlessly allowing her cousin to weave her hair into a long thick braid, neatly fastened with a small ribbon. Persephone rested a hand on Artemis’ shoulder and heaved a small sigh.

“It’s ok, you know. To be sad. David was your friend.” She reassured her softly. Artemis kept her gaze trained at the window as she stood, brushing the knees of her trousers off roughly.

“I’m tired of it. The older I get, the more death there is. I’m just… tired.” Artemis’ hollow words prodded cruelly at Persephone. She could hardly refute the truth of them. Especially considering her line of work and the state of the world for the past years, death seemed like an omnipresent force, lurking ever at the edges of her vision. But the reality of the young woman coming to grips with it clenched around her heart like a cold vice. She stood to move near to her cousin, joining her in watching out the window as the leafless branches of the trees swayed in the early winter wind.

“I know.” Persephone began softly, arms wrapped protectively across herself. “Sometimes it seems to never end. It’s like those trees right now. Barren in the cold, sometimes it’s hard to even remember what they looked like when they were full of life. At the worst of it, in the middle of winter, it feels like the leaves will never return. But one day when you least expect it, there’s that hint of green. And after that, life comes roaring back…” She paced over to the vanity to retrieve her bag “The leaves aren’t the _same_ , but life goes on. I know it’s hard to remember right now, but winter doesn’t last forever. Just hold on and the green will come back.”

Artemis turned and smiled sadly at Persephone. “I know. But thanks all the same.” She moved to give her cousin a quick hug before declaring, “I’m ready.”

* * *

The curved copper of the coffin lid shone in flashes beneath the cool ceiling lights as Enodia pushed it through the sterile hallway of the mortuary, her charge safely inside. She came to a stop and patted the lid softly as she rounded the casket to open the plain wooden door leading into the chapel. The morning light streamed softly into the room; technicolor patches cast by the stained glass. Aidoneus jumped slightly, startled by the intrusion, the blousy yellow blossom near him still wavering from his touch. Enodia smiled to herself. The poor man was having a harder and harder time hiding his regard for a certain petite florist.

“Rearranging, are we?” She asked with a brow raised as she wheeled the gleaming casket to the altar space.

He cleared his throat softly, stealing another glance at the flowers. “N-not particularly.” Striding over to the table he gathered a deep green cloth trimmed in gold braid and began busying himself attaching it to the unsightly structure holding the coffin. “I was just thinking that I really need to apologize to her properly. I wanted to the other day, but she ran off before I had the chance.” He admitted softly.

“And that led to you admiring her work?” Enodia asked with a sly smile.

Aidoneus blushed slightly, his answer temporarily caught in his throat. “Well, Naturally.”

“Naturally.” Enodia parroted, managing to control her sarcasm, but only just. The ragged sigh and solemn look on Aidoneus’ face erasing her momentary mirth. “I’m sorry.” She apologized softly.

“It’s just… every time I try to write something it sounds awful. Every time I try to speak to her either I ruin it by being _me_ or she runs off.” Aidoneus fiddled anxiously with his cufflink as he continued, “I put some thought into what you asked me the other day… I think I do want people to like me. And I think I want _her_ to like me most of all.”

Enodia smiled sympathetically, reaching out to straighten his tie “Then just be you. You aren’t “ruining” things by being you. You’re “ruining” things by trying to _not_ be you.” She brushed his lapel free of an errant bit of fluff “Who’s to know what she’d think of the real you, but you owe it to yourself to give yourself the chance to shine.”

“You’re right.” Aidoneus nodded slightly. “Thank you, Enodia. You’re a good friend.”

She waved her hand dismissively, moving to gather a box of small leaflets. The sound of the front entrance latch drew the attention of both, and she resolutely handed him the small box. “Sounds like the family has arrived. I’ll be around if you need me.” With that, she retreated back through the door into the gleaming white tile of her domain.

Aidoneus strode to the receiving area to greet the grieving parents. Mr. and Mrs. Jensen stood in the doorway, clinging to one another for support, a gossamer black veil cascading over the mother’s face. He placed the box of programs on the dark, wooden desk and turned with an outstretched hand to grasp Mr. Jensen’s.

“Sir. I would like to again offer my condolences for your loss…”

* * *

Persephone slowed her stride as she approached the funeral home, the cold wind playing fitfully with her coat. Across the square she could already see Aidoneus standing sentinel beside the door greeting the guests arriving, the mass of black-clad townsfolk hastily making their way into the warm interior. She picked fitfully at the soft black glove on her hand as she tried to quell her rising apprehension.

Artemis tugged her arm gently out from Persephone’s. “Hey, I think I’m going to go join them.” She pointed across the small park to a cluster of mourners her own age.

Persephone smiled sadly; it seemed the whole class had turned out for David’s funeral. “Of course, honey. I’ll meet up with you later.”

Artemis nodded and strode off, shoulders raised against the cold, hands firmly seated in the depths of her pockets. Persephone watched her retreat with a twinge of jealousy. Part of her was counting on having Artemis as a social buffer, but she could hardly ask her to ignore her classmates. She stopped in the square, pulling her mirror from her handbag for one last glance as she lowered the stiff net veil over her eyes and steeled her nerves to encounter the taciturn mortician once again. Closing the mirror with a decisive snap, she dropped it back into her bag and strode toward the entrance.

Persephone met his gaze long before she made it to the door. Aidoneus faltered in his duties and a handful of mourners passed into the funeral home as he remained unable to tear his gaze from the one person he had been hoping to see today. Even bundled up against the cutting wind she looked beautiful. He struggled to remember if he had ever seen her wear lipstick before, though he doubted it. He was certain he would have remembered that dash of vivid color contrasting her rich skin.

“Mr. Pluton.” Persephone stated simply by way of greeting.

“Miss Kore.” He reached out for her hand, bowing slightly. “This isn’t exactly the appropriate time, but I would very much like to speak with you. L-later, I mean.”

Persephone’s eyes widened and her heart felt as though it were stilled. A runner waiting at the starting line before bursting back into a flurry of activity. She gathered her wits, eyeing him warily “Was there an issue with the arrangements for today? I can always fix them before the service.”

“No!” Aidoneus said, blushing ever so slightly “Y-your work is… sufficient.” He finished lamely.

Persephone pursed her lips in a moue of annoyance. “Happy to please.” She quipped, voice flat and humorless.

_Breathe. Stop trying so hard._ Aidoneus admonished himself inwardly. “That wasn’t how I meant to say that, Miss Kore. Your work is always lovely.”

A small smile rose the corner of Persephone’s lips “Thank you, Mr. Pluton. That sounded like an actual apology. Are you human in there after all?” Aidoneus initially blanched before noticing the mischievous twinkle in Persephone’s eye. He returned her smile, confidence restored and perhaps a bit shored up.

“At times I am inclined to think I may be.” He released her hand and gestured toward the door, wordlessly ushering her into the building. “Until later, Miss Kore.”

* * *

The service was a somber affair, the soft wails periodically emanating from Mrs. Jensen reminding all: her baby was gone. Plaintive strains of the organist’s work ushered the congregated mourners through the exit of the chapel, some leaning on others for support, tears returning in earnest as the reality of goodbye settled firmly into their hearts and minds.

Persephone spied Artemis making her way stoically toward the doors, her hand firmly entwined with Dorothy Nelson, the shop keeper’s granddaughter. She smiled to herself. _Life to be found in the winter, indeed._

“Miss Kore?” a thin, reedy voice shook Persephone from her thoughts. She turned to find Mr. Jensen looking down at her. It seemed to her that he had aged exponentially in the half hour of the service. She reached out her hands, enveloping his and meeting his gaze sadly.

“Mr. Jensen. I am so sorry for your loss.”

He shook his head sadly “Please, call me William. May I speak to you please?”

“Of course.” She wrapped her hand over his arm, allowing herself to be led to a secluded seating area in the receiving room. Settling herself in an opulently upholstered armchair, she turned to give William her undivided attention. “How can I help you? Were you displeased with the flowers?

“No, Miss Kore. They were beautiful as always. But,” he fished inside his coat, removing a white envelope. “Helen gave this to me. Said it was from you. This? This is too much.” He opened the envelope, displaying the handful of cash nestled within. Persephone’s face fell slightly.

“William. I know how much David helped on the farm. This next season you may not be able to plant as much. And heaven knows the cost of burials is not light. I apologize if you feel I’ve overstepped my place, but I think that when we are in a position to help one another, it’s important to do so.”

He stared at her; shock painted on his face. “I… hadn’t really considered that, Miss.”

“Understandable.” Persephone leaned forward, placing one hand lightly over his. “You have had more than enough to handle lately. I understand if you can’t accept it, but I should like to help your family defray the costs of today at the very least.”

* * *

Aidoneus watched the retreating mourners with a small measure of pride. Another service rendered without a hitch. There was always a strange mixture of emotions left in the wake. Pride at a job well done, his own grief over the community member lost, but today there was something else fluttering around the perimeter of his mind. A strange brand of hope mixed with anxiety that he had very rarely felt in his life. He knew precisely the cause today.  
  
He watched everyone leave, but never caught sight of Persephone. Perhaps she had lingered in the chapel to speak with him. Making his way back through the polished double doors he felt that acute anxiety rise slightly, the hope dimming. She wasn’t there either. Perhaps she _had_ slipped out while he spoke with someone. Exiting the chapel again, he scanned the area for lingering mourners and, finding none, set himself to turning out lights in the various seating areas scattered about. He designed the space to be both social and private, a large receiving area with small seating areas for those who preferred to keep their own counsel before services, or simply step away to compose themselves.

As he made his way from space to space, he soundly admonished himself. _Just because she didn’t outright say “no” didn’t mean she wanted to speak with you. Besides, what were you even planning to say? I’d like to get to know you better? Give me another chance? Serves you right that she left._ He gathered loose leaflets as he made his rounds, soft clicking of light switches his only company until he rounded a corner and the soft drone of voices carried over to him. He collected himself to approach them, instruct them that it was time to leave, but stopped dead in his tracks as he recognized one of the voices.  
  
“…at the very least.” The tail end of Persephone’s statement came to him, her voice pitched soft and low, trying not to be heard.

“You are wonderful, Miss Kore.” A male voice joined hers, choked with emotion.

A soft chuckle preceded Persephone’s answer “Please, call me Persephone. I should hope we’ve moved beyond “Miss Kore”?”

His soft answering laugh and a shifting of bodies. “I should think you’re right. Thank you. I’m pleasantly surprised to find you care so much. This means a lot.”

Aidoneus’ blood ran cold. Whoever she was speaking to, it certainly sounded like the beginnings of a deeper relationship, likely a romantic one. Jealousy spiked through him as he lamented how he wanted that to be _him._ Nothing could have prepared him for the shock of seeing the grieving father, Mr. Jensen round the corner, smiling at the petite woman. A rendezvous on the day of his son’s funeral. A married man, no less. Both stopped in their tracks, Mr. Jensen blushing slightly and quickly tucking an envelope in his jacket. _No need to hide your love letters._ Aidoneus fumed internally.

“My apologies, Mr. Pluton. We were just leaving.” He said, chagrin faintly coloring his voice.

“Please, go ahead. Send my condolences to your wife.” Persephone patted his arm, bidding him goodbye and smiling softly at him. He returned her smile with a gentle hand placed over hers.

“I will. Thank you again, Persephone.” He smiled at her as he placed his hat onto his graying hair and nodded briefly at Aidoneus as he made his exit.

Persephone waited for the door to softly click shut behind him before turning to Aidoneus, a friendly, open expression on her face. “You said you needed to speak to me?”

Aidoneus stared down the line of his nose at her, his expression blank, bordering on cold. “I did, Miss Kore, but I believe I’ve received my answer.” He said, his voice calm, words clipped.

Persephone’s brow knitted together in confusion. “I’m sorry, have I done something to upset you? I just wanted to speak to him…”

“I get the impression I am not the one you will need to be apologizing to.” He said coolly, cutting off her explanation and turning to switch off the light in the seating area as though he could no longer be bothered to continue the conversation.

“That’s rather a stretch coming from _you,_ the king of terrible apologies. Now deigning to tell me who and when I should be apologizing and for who knows what perceived slight!” She huffed “You know what? Fine. If you want to act like a petulant child, I am more than happy to leave you to that.” She buttoned her coat roughly, her ire with him seeping into her movements. She glowered at him as she finished, “And you’re wrong, you know. You aren’t human in there after all.”

* * *

The door to the funeral home banged shut behind Persephone as she stormed out. _What in the world was that about?_ Aidoneus had gone from smiling and easy natured, to cold and almost outright angry over the duration of the funeral service? Well, if he insisted on speaking in riddles and acting like a child, she certainly couldn’t be asked to entertain it. The early winter wind clawed viciously at the opening of her coat, seeping in around the buttons to chill her to the bone. She realized dimly that her eyes were welling with tears and decided to chalk that up to the wind.

The alternative, that Aidoneus had caused it, didn’t bear thinking about.


	6. Festivities and Fallacies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Daalex and SerpentinaShana for your valuable input!

Vibrantly colored lights twinkled from every nearby tree and light post as Aidoneus made his way towards the sleek, black automobile. If only that vibrancy could lend itself to him. The holiday season was swiftly approaching and for the first year since his arrival in Lore the town seemed determined to mark every minor celebration along the way. Perhaps lending an assist to the community mood, business had been in a lull for the funeral home. Part of Aidoneus was relieved at that, part dismayed. He never took a rest from his work unless under the happy circumstance that life was carrying steadfastly onward. Keeping his mind busy was the best antidote to his tendency towards morbid moods.

In the 3 weeks since the Jensen funeral he had seen nothing of Miss Persephone Kore, and he had found nothing but time to reflect on that fact. The one small service that had been held in the interim was for the town malcontent who had few friends and even fewer mourners. The small arrangements ordered by the family had been delivered by the stoic young Native man Persephone often employed. He had set the arrangements down, only stopping to glare at Aidoneus, his inscrutable gaze giving away nothing of the thoughts within, and Aidoneus certainly wasn’t going to ask.

Sliding behind the wheel of his car, he admonished himself once again. He had no business thinking of her at all any longer. After what he had overheard at the funeral it was clear what kind of moral fiber Miss Kore was made of. But if her behavior was so repellant, why on earth couldn’t he stop thoughts of her from flashing through his mind? He had no sympathy for those who would knowingly insinuate themselves into another’s relationship. He’d been on the receiving end of that enough times for it to leave a hearty distaste in his mouth. Persephone had seemed different. Better than those other women. Those preening debutantes of Olympus, with their fixations on social climbing and money, their willingness to throw away matters of the heart for matters of the wallet.

Persephone seemed to have an honesty about her; Until she suddenly didn’t. Aidoneus clutched the thin steering wheel and rested his forehead on his knuckles. He sighed, trying to gather motivation to head home, knowing that nothing awaited him but silence and a bottle of scotch. A sharp rapping noise against the glass of his window shocked him from his maudlin thoughts and he peered through the frost covered glass at the grinning face of Enodia. Leaning across the wide bench seat he opened the passenger door, a wordless welcome into the sanctuary of his car.

“Oh boy.” She chattered, rubbing her mittened hands together “If this temperature is any indicator, we are in for it this winter!” She shook her head as though she could remove the chill from her sharply bobbed hair. “Where are you going?”

Aidoneus raised a brow at her “Home, of course.”

Enodia laughed and shook her head again, this time in admonishment “Oh no you’re not. Not tonight! It’s the Fall Festival, remember?” He groaned inwardly. He had entirely forgotten about the festivities the town had planned for this evening. Well, perhaps saying he had forgotten wasn’t entirely accurate. Better to say he had intentionally buried the thought along with any idea of attending.

“You know as well as I do that no one wants me there.” Aidoneus flexed his hands against the steering wheel, working the chill from his fingers.

“You don’t know that for certain. Something obviously has you all bent lately, and I think getting out would do you some good. Besides,” she smiled mischievously at him “bet you anything that Miss Kore will be there.”

Aidoneus’ jaw ticked at the mention of the florist. “Can’t say I have any interest in seeing her.”  
  
“Liar.” Enodia quipped, reaching for the door handle. “Whatever’s got you all out of shape, you never can lie to me, you know.” She sighed as his face fell. “Look. Come with me. If nothing else, it should be cheap entertainment. Heard there’s going to be a community talent show. Maybe we can get Hera good and soused and convince her to dance.”

Aidoneus chuckled at the offer. “I doubt we’d have to get her very drunk.” He mused.

Enodia clapped the back of her hand against his shoulder genially “See! Easy job, even! Come on.”

Peering at his friend from the corner of his eye, Aidoneus sighed “You aren’t about to let me say no, are you?”

“Not hardly.”

* * *

Persephone cast a wide gaze around the Jensen barn. The family, grateful for her help weeks ago, volunteered the use of their large barn for part of the harvest festival. Activities would be taking place throughout the town, hot chocolate and warm cocktails at Mr. Nelson’s storefront, free showings of animated shorts for children at the Palace, distribution of part of the harvest yield to the community, an archery contest at Artemis’ behest, all culminating in a talent show and dance at the barn. Persephone smiled at her work, the garlands of evergreen interlaced with roses from her greenhouse had taken her a week’s time to assemble, but the effect was beautiful as they now draped gracefully from the upright beams of the space.

“Gorgeous as always.”

Persephone turned to find Hera scanning the space, one arm crossed over her body, her long cigarette holder smoldering away in the other hand. A festive jeweled hair clip sat over one ear, pulling her usual waterfall waves away from her face.  
  
“Thanks. It was worth the work for sure. I thought you would be at the Palace minding Bruce.”

Hera barked a short laugh and shrugged. “Sam is running the projector. Bruce is helping hold the bar in place, I’m sure.”

Persephone nodded and agreed with a small laugh “God forbid it float away. So, where are you headed to start the evening?”

“Well, in that same vein, I hear Mr. Nelson is making those sweet egg cocktails that could strip wallpaper. How about we go find one of those?” Hera raised a brow and grinned.

“Deal. Let me grab my coat.”

* * *

Aidoneus walked alongside Enodia, his hands jammed firmly in his pockets against the cold. His companion was uncharacteristically upbeat, exclaiming over the decorations in the town square and nodding a smiling greeting to every person they passed. He wasn’t foolish enough to do the same. He could see the wary glances cast at his approach and thought it best to let sleeping dogs lie. Nothing he could do would convince the town that he wasn’t death incarnate, so what was the use in trying?

Enodia gripped his elbow, steering him towards the storefront of the local five and dime. Old man Nelson stood out front, a table had been set up, draped with a festive cloth and sat laden with small mugs, a large bowl and a few kettles. He grinned his jack-o-lantern smile at two women as he handed them steaming mugs and the pair laughed at something the man said. The voices cut through Aidoneus’ inattention, his heart skipping a beat as he recognized the bundled form of Persephone in the company of Hera. Skidding to a stop, he quickly dropped into the alley between the store and the neighboring hair salon, Enodia suddenly dragged along for the ride.

“What the hell, Aidon?” She released his arm, glaring at him and reseating her hat onto her head.

He stared down at her, wild eyed and breathing hard. He couldn’t very well tell her that he panicked at the sight of Miss Kore. “Uh… Hera has been haranguing me about coming to dinner. I-I just would rather avoid her.”

Enodia peered up at him, her mouth cocked in a moue of disbelief. “Sure. You’re afraid of your sister-in-law.” She quipped sarcastically.

“I didn’t say I was a-afraid of her. I just don’t want to deal with her.” Aidoneus picked at the seam on his leather glove, steadfastly avoiding Enodia’s gaze.

She peeked around the red brick corner and smiled mischievously “I’m sure it has absolutely nothing to do with the person walking with Hera, right?”

Aidoneus stared up at the grey sky, silently begging the universe for patience. Or maybe intervention from this line of questioning, he wasn’t sure, but he was certainly begging. “Fine. If you must know, I am avoiding Miss Kore. No, it’s not very mature or productive, but I have my reasons. Yes. I liked her. I liked her quite a bit, but information came to my attention that makes that impossible.”

Enodia squinted at him slightly, tilting her head to examine his expression. “What did she do that’s so at odds with you? I know you have high standards for the world at large, but I never thought you’d completely cut someone out like that.”

“None of your business. If you want to get to the rest of this,” he waved a hand dismissively “let’s get going.”

* * *

Nutmeg and cinnamon carried to Persephone’s nose; the fragrance buoyed by the steam from the mug clasped in her gloved hands. Giving credit where it was due, Mr. Nelson sure could make a drink to put one in a festive mood. If only that were all it took for her.  
  
“Hey, what’s going on, honey? You’ve looked on edge all evening. Actually, you’ve been a bit off the ball for a while now.” Hera cast a glance at her friend, trying to visually ferret out what could possibly be on her mind. “Anything I can do?”

Persephone sighed deeply, staring down at her feet as she picked her way back to the barn. “It’s going to sound very strange…” She trailed off, hoping Hera would drop her line of questioning.  
  
Hera scoffed softly “Doll. When have I ever been against hearing something a little off kilter?”

A dark chuckle emanated from Persephone. Hera was right. If anyone in her life should be trusted with her misgivings, it was Hera. “So, you remember the Jensen boy?”

  
“Of course”

“When I arrived at his funeral Aidoneus greeted me and said he wanted to talk to me later. He seemed almost excited at the prospect.”  
  
Hera barked a smoky laugh, “Aidoneus excited. Well, that would sure be a sight to see.”  
  
“That’s just the thing!” Persephone continued, shaking her head dolefully “He _was_ excited. Then after the service? After I was done talking to Mr. Jensen? I swear he flipped so cold on me I could hardly stand it. Honestly, He seemed almost angry!”

“What were you talking to Mr. Jensen about?” Hera raised a brow at her companion.  
  
“Well…” Persephone adjusted her hands around the steaming mug in her hands before taking a deep pull of the warm brandy and rum mixture, “I had passed Mrs. Jensen some cash to help defray the cost of the funeral and he came to return it. He said it was too much, but we talked, and he kept it in the end. I just wanted to help.”  
  
“Oh…” Hera trailed off, staring resolutely before her at the grey skies that were beginning to deepen into charcoal night. “Money.”

“Well, yes. Money. I have more than I know what to do with and they needed help. Maybe I didn’t do it quite the right way…”

Hera cut her off with a wave of her hand “Oh no. No, no. It’s not you, honey. Not at all. You have an amazing heart. I’m sure the Jensens are really grateful! There is simply no man more skinflint than Aidoneus. You would have no idea that he was raised with money the way he clutches each nickel like a miser. He’s more dragon than man sometimes.”

Persephone stopped in her tracks; pure shock painted on her face “You mean…” She cast her gaze around the ground as she searched her mind for the right words, right emotion to even feel about this revelation “He’s looking down on me for helping a family in town?”  
  


Hera shrugged “I suppose. If that’s all you talked about, I can’t imagine how it could be anything else, though it does seem odd to get that mad about it. Maybe he felt like it was some kind of commentary on his business?” She turned to Persephone, placing one gloved hand on her shoulder “Don’t take it too hard. These men aren’t human, I swear. There’s no understanding them. Bruce acts like he’s god’s gift to the world, leaves his emotions right on his sleeve. Like it or lump it… hell, sometimes he acts like he _is_ God. Aidoneus… he’s different. All that seems to have passed him right on by, leaving him really wanting of confidence and emotion at all it seems. Completely opposite problem. I don’t think you’ll know what he’s got stuck in his craw unless you directly ask him.”  
  
Persephone shook her head slightly and resumed her tread toward the barn, now deeply contemplating both the wisdom of her heart and the hateful man it seemed hell bound to choose.

* * *

Aidoneus shook the chill from his hands as Enodia pulled him into the barn. More lights, more revelry, and beautiful garlands obviously crafted by the only hands in town capable of something so lovely. The party seemed to have been in full swing for a bit before the pair arrived. Raucous laughter and conversation rang out above the upbeat music provided by an old gramophone seated on the corner of the makeshift stage. He noted Artemis sitting on the edge near the contraption, accompanied by a young woman wearing a pale-yellow dress, her riotous red curls bouncing about her face as she laughed, both ladies excitedly shuffling through the records on offer. On the other end of the stage, someone had procured a piano for the space, no doubt in preparation for the talent show yet to come. For now, dancing couples wound their way around the space, movement more exuberant than graceful, but creating an atmosphere of joy and an energy that Aidoneus found hard to deny.  
  


Hera stepped to the center of the stage with a slightly wobbling stride, her form draped in a deep golden gown that would be more appropriate for a gala in Olympus, the satin capelets at her arms fluttered as she waved at Artemis, a wordless instruction to cease the music. With a soft scratch, the music came to a stop, the dancing couples gradually all came to a halt with varying degrees of grace.  
  
“Good evening!” Hera shouted above the crowd, a broad grin on her face “We are so pleased you could all come tonight! And a very deep thank you to the Jensen family for lending us their barn!” a light smattering of applause followed her statement. “And thanks to Mrs. Ingebretsen for the piano for the evening!” Another polite round of applause followed with one small whoop from the crowd. “We had a think, you know…” Aidoneus rolled his eyes. Hera was obviously pretty drunk and now she had the floor. Odds on, this would end embarrassingly, but it was little concern of his. He stayed in the rear of the space, silently praying for his evening to end, yet bracing for her to continue.  
  
“So we had that think, and decided that instead of just a few of our lovely townsfolk up here as a band we could have all of you! What do you think?” At this, the crowd began clapping and a good many more vocal assents. “That’s what I thought too!” Hera clapped along with her own applause, nodding at those in the front before raising her hands in a clumsy cheer “So, let’s go bananas! The first person signed up this evening to perform…”

Aidoneus lost all interest as the “talent” began. Admittedly, it was… diverse. Everything from a reading of Keats, to a small child pounding out an atonal melody on the piano, to a woman that could bend in unnatural positions. But nothing was particularly stunning, and the expression on Hera’s face as she waited on the side of the stage seemed to say the same. Aidoneus’ mind had long ago wandered to Persephone and he found himself idly scanning the crowd for her small form. He inwardly scoffed at himself. Even if he did find her, he had no intention of speaking to her, so why couldn’t he forget her? He began slowly making his way toward the door, hoping to sneak away from Enodia and spend his evening in less emotionally confusing pursuits.  
  
In the end throes of a painfully long demonstration of how to play a washboard as an instrument, Hera clambered awkwardly down from the stage into the crowd and spoke to Hermes, the quiet young man that Persephone employed. Aidoneus could have sworn he saw a smile flash across his features for a split second as he nodded at her before it was gone again, and he wound his way into the crowd without further discussion.

Hera took back to the stage, making her way to the center, and clapped a hand on the old man’s shoulder “Thank you, Mr. Ernewin! That was… just lovely.” She finished gamely. “But we have one last performer yet to go!” The elder shuffled off the stage, ushered out by enough applause to keep him leaving. “Well, I suppose it’s not right to say we have _one_ last person. Everyone, welcome Persephone Kore and Hermes!”  
  
Aidoneus felt as though his very soul were being pulled from his body as she took the stage, his heart racing fit to leave his chest. His gaze remained glued to her as she strode calmly to the center of the stage, scanning the audience with a soft smile. She wore a deep ruby toned dress of some fabric that seemed to move across her like water. Utterly captivating, yet still completely demure, with sleeves reaching to her wrists and a high cut neckline with a small pink bow at the throat. He found himself irrevocably convinced that Persephone could wear nothing but burlap and still look like the definition of beauty. Her dark curls shone, reflecting tones of the festive multicolored lights above her, the overall effect being that of a rainbow cast through her hair. He couldn’t help the small smile that developed unbidden on his face. His retreat now stilled, he turned to find a better vantage point to watch whatever she was about to do.  
  
Hermes seated himself at the piano and gave a slight raise of his brow to Persephone as he began to play a jaunty tune that Aidoneus wasn’t certain he had ever heard before. And then Persephone opened her mouth and began to sing. Truly sing. Emotion drenched in honey poured forth from her, and Aidoneus found himself completely enraptured, inexorably drawn toward her. He began to work his way closer to the stage before the lyrics of the song began to land.  
  
“ _There ain’t nothing I can do,_

_Or nothing I can say._

_That folks don’t criticize me,_

_But I’m going to do just as I want to anyway….”_

_  
_He stopped cold in his steps, the words landing in his mind like ice. _  
_  
_“T’ain’t nobody’s business if I do…”_

The upbeat melody felt in direct conflict with what he was hearing. His heart seemed to slow and race at the same time, her words each striking like a blow to the chest. She seemed to be deliberately avoiding his eyes, her gestures and winks directed at seemingly everyone in the crowd but him. He darkly thought that guilt must be weighing heavy on her even though the song she sang was so flippant. Suddenly, she snapped her gaze directly to his, singing only to him, a slight growl entering the honeyed tones,

“ _If I give him my last nickel,_

_And it leaves me in a pickle,_

_Ain’t nobody’s business if I do”_

Persephone tipped her chin up on the last syllable, giving him a look that spoke deeper than any song could. God, it hadn’t occurred to him that she might really hate him, but her expression was colder and more resolute than any he had seen from her before. Aidoneus beat a hasty retreat from the crowd, gathered his coat, and trudged stubbornly into the night in search of solitude and that bottle of scotch, his escape from his personal hell complimented by the snow now falling silently from the darkened sky. __  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Musical credit:
> 
> "'Tain't Nobody's Bizness If I Do" (Originally published in 1922) version used by Bessie Smith in 1923.


	7. Presumptions and Propositions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Daalex and Roselessthorn for your help and input!

The sharp scent of onion overpowered Persephone as she swept the mound of chopped vegetables into the simmering water. Blinking her eyes hard to clear the tears without touching her face and making it worse, she used the large ladle to push the mix of carrots, onion, and potatoes deeper into the pot.

A chuckle sounded from beside her as Artemis toted over a large bowl of browned chunks of venison. “Got a rough onion?” she asked, watching her cousin wrinkling her nose in a vain attempt to clear it.

“Could clear the whole room with it.” Persephone joked, stepping aside slightly for Artemis to pour the bowl into the growing stew. She frowned down at the large stock pot now bubbling merrily away on the camp stove, biting her lip. “Do you think this is going to be enough?”

“Attendance was down last week, so we reduced by a little bit. Should still be plenty if there’s more than we thought with the bread and other veggies to take home.” Artemis patted Persephone’s shoulder kindly. “Don’t worry. It’s a good problem to have. More people are getting back on their feet.”

Persephone knew her cousin was right, but she couldn’t help but worry. The weekly food and resource distribution had been her own idea and her funding of it the town’s worst kept secret. The bigger towns and cities had the resources to set up soup kitchens more often, but in Lore there was little in the way of town funds. They had been lucky enough to have the town council hall to set up inside to keep out of the bitter cold of the winter that was settling in firmly about them. This was a labor of love that had slowly grown to include volunteers helping to mend clothing and shoes, repair the necessary around the local homes and farms, and even Eros Amor, the local hairdresser, volunteered his time to keep those looking for jobs at their best. Persephone was pleased with how much the program had grown, but Artemis was right, reduced need was a great problem to have.

As though her train of thought had summoned him expressly, Eros came sweeping into the building carrying a bag packed with the tools of his trade. He looked impeccable as always, his mahogany hair shining with styling cream, swept back from his face in a graceful compliment to his sharply chiseled features. He set his bag down on the small table Artemis had set up for him and gave Persephone a small wave as he stripped off his coat. Today saw him in the crisp white shirt and loosely fitted trousers that were de rigueur among the popular celebrities at the moment. He had a deep crimson cravat with small golden embroidery tied jauntily at his throat, the ruby hue matching his suspenders, giving him the overall impression of looking quite like a movie star indeed.

Persephone strode over to him with feigned awe “Oh! Hello Mr. Flynn! We weren’t expecting you. I’m looking for my friend Eros. Have you ever met him?” She made a show of batting her lashes at him and pouting her lips as she fanned herself with an open palm.  
  
“Very funny, love. It’s not my fault I’m beautiful.” Eros quipped, grinning at her cheekily as he began unpacking his tools.  
  
“And so humble.” Persephone noted with a laugh. “How many are you expecting today?”

Eros pulled his small calendar book from his pocket, consulting the entries for the previous few weeks. “Maybe three? The last two weeks I saw quite a few, so most might not be due yet. That’s fine. It’ll give me time to get some of the local ragamuffins today.”

Persephone smiled at her dear friend. No one had asked him to do any of this. He had come to her a week into her endeavor offering his time and services himself because, as he said, “It’s much harder to find a job when you look down at the heels, and it helps morale to feel sharp.” She hadn’t expected him to work with the children as well, but he had applied that same principle of boosting morale to the children and teens that came in with their parents hoping only for a full belly and some entertainment. If given half a lifetime she doubted she would ever be able to thank him enough for his kind heart.

“Sounds like a plan! Oh! That reminds me, I better get the radio set up.” Persephone threaded her way past the crew of volunteers to a small area she had set up with some borrowed wooden chairs surrounding a small RCA radio. A young girl with hair the color of corn silk was already seated, swinging her small feet and humming to herself as she waited.  
  
“Good morning, Maribel!” Persephone greeted her brightly, ruffling her sunny locks with the palm of her hand as she passed by. “Any requests for today?”  
  
The young girl smiled up at her exposing her newly missing front tooth. “I heard there was ‘sposed to be a new Annie today! Can we hear that, Miss Kore, Ma’am?” She settled into her chair and ran her small hands down the faded floral print of her skirt, setting it smooth.  
  
“Of course, honey! Let’s see if I can find it.” Persephone crouched and turned the knob, the radio flaring to life with static intercut with some kind of song. Cruising through the dial, she settled over the call numbers for the channel and the announcer’s voice rang through the speaker, calling: “It’s adventure time, with Orphan Annie!” laid over the sounds of a train whistle and roaring airplane before moving into jovial organ music. “I wonder what Annie hopes to find out by following Angelina Carmonetti…” the animated voice gripped the young Maribel and she sat forward further in her chair, keenly listening for the adventure about to come.

Persephone made her way back to her makeshift kitchen and began setting up mismatched ceramic bowls, standing them in tidy lines at the ready next to the chipped, teal camp stove. Artemis had busied herself portioning bread for the meal as old Mrs. Ingebretsen wrapped whole loaves in waxed paper to be sent home with the community. Jars of home canned jams stood in rows alongside the bread station, provided by another family in town. Something sweet to help offset the sour times. Following that were packages of salt and other necessities, potatoes also donated from a local farmer, and the earthy, black hulled rice provided by Hermes and his Ate.

Casting her gaze along the length of the beaten wooden table showed Persephone nothing but love and the inherent good in the community that she lived in.  
  


* * *

“I don’t understand why you want to come here.” Aidoneus groused, following Enodia down the snowy sidewalk.  
  
She stopped only once, turning back to stare at him speculatively. “I think there’s something you need to see.”

A small crowd of townsfolk were filtering through the doorway of the town hall, heads bowed against the cold wind whipping down the street. One or two people looked at Aidoneus long enough to have mild surprise register on their faces before being ushered through the door by the flow of traffic. He and Enodia followed the crowd, stepping off to the side once they had entered the building. The room was warm, and laughter seemed to be the pervading sound. Aidoneus was slightly shocked at the overall jovial attitude. He knew full well that this was the day and location for the local soup kitchen, but unlike the downtrodden scenes in Olympus, this one was lively, and frankly the food on offer smelled a great deal better than the usual Hoover Stew too.

He remained where he stood, outside the sphere of the community and cast a long gaze around the space. Small children were clustered around a radio with some manner of children’s adventure show blaring forth. A few teenagers milled nearby, trying to appear disinterested, but obviously trying to hear the story as well. The local hairstylist had set up a chair and was busy cutting the hair of a gentleman who sorely needed it. They were engaged in easy conversation and obviously enjoying themselves.  
  
The line of people receiving a meal inched steadfastly forward, being met initially by none other than Persephone Kore herself. She was beaming at a young woman with a small baby in tow as she filled bowls with food. She waved to a nearby volunteer who came to take her space at the line, and she stepped around the table for the young mother to hand off her charge into Persephone’s waiting arms. She kept pace with the mother as she gathered the meal for herself and her small child and led them to one of the long tables that had been set up within the bulk of the space. Persephone settled in to keep the baby occupied, conversing with the mother while she ate and playing with the infant’s toes to entertain them. Occasionally, Persephone would offer a spoonful of the fragrant stew to the child who shrieked gleefully and tried to grasp the spoon in their chubby fist.  
  
“So.” Enodia’s low voice shook Aidoneus from his thoughts and he turned to face her. “I still don’t know what you think Persephone did so damned wrong that you can’t see your way to forgiving her but look around you. This? This is all her. Her effort. Her funding. Her heart. The volunteers came running when they thought they could help her. Does _this_ look like a bad person?”

  
Aidoneus cast another gaze around the room of smiling faces. Enodia was right, he knew. This was nothing like the lines he had seen elsewhere. There was care here. There was no shame here. These people were being loved and they loved Persephone deeply in return. He turned to Enodia with a sigh. “You’re right. You don’t know. Let’s get out of here and I’ll explain."

Enodia threaded her nimble fingers back into her gloves and headed toward the door.

Snow scrunched softly under their feet as they made their way back toward the funeral home, Enodia remained silent, waiting. Aidoneus gathered his thoughts. Was it really his place to tell her of the sins of others? But he doubted she would cease her line of questioning or forcing him into situations with Miss Kore until she knew.  
  
“At the Jensen funeral I overheard Miss Kore speaking to the father of the deceased.” He began, reluctantly.  
  
Enodia shrugged. “That makes sense. She speaks to everyone.”  
  
“Yes, but it was the conversation they were having that was the problem.” Aidoneus ran through the points of the conversation that he had overheard, rambling on until he realized Enodia no longer strode alongside him. “What? What’s wrong?” He asked her, concern lacing his voice as he strode back to the place she had stopped in her tracks.  
  
“You.” Enodia shook her head, the expression on her face one of pure disbelief. “You are an incredible idiot.”  
  
Aidoneus felt his face fall slack. Enodia never spoke to him like this. “W-what do you mean?!” He demanded.

“Think about it you great, big, dummy! You’re talking about Persephone here. You truly believe in your heart of hearts that she would be capable of breaking up a marriage?” Enodia glared at him now, her small fists sitting at her hips.  
  
“B-but I heard…” Aidoneus vacillated.  
  
“You heard NOTHING!” Enodia shrieked in frustration. “My god, Aidon! That conversation could have been about ANYTHING! She said she cares about him? Well? LOOK!” She thrust her hand back in the direction they had come, indicating the soup kitchen operation. “She does care! She cares about everyone!” A dark laugh emanated from her before continuing “You know what? I bet she even cares about you. Even with you treating her like a damn pariah. I would put my last damn dime on it.”

He shook his head dolefully “I doubt that. At any rate she doesn’t care about me like…” He trailed off, thinking that admitting his feelings for the young florist a step too far, but he should have known that there would be no hiding that fact from his friend. To Enodia, his feelings for Persephone were likely as plain to her as the color in the surrounding world or the changing of the seasons.

“Like you care for her?” She ventured; brow still furrowed in frustration. She tapped her foot idly, choosing her next words with care. “Do you think that you’ve shown her that? Do you think that the way you’ve treated her shows caring?”  
  
“No.” He admitted, his voice low and filled with shame.  
  
Enodia sighed. “Exactly. And that says a great deal more about you than it does about her or any of your idiotic notions that she would suddenly change her entire character. When you care for someone you ought to show them the very best of yourself. Do you think that is what you’ve done?”

Aidoneus let her ranting wash over him, the realization that she was right beginning to dawn on him entirely too slowly. “Enodia.” He rasped; his voice choked with emotion.

“What?” Dark eyes flashed at him as she awaited his response.  
  
“I think…” He swallowed hard, getting a heavy dose of his pride down with it “I think I have made a huge mistake.”

* * *

Persephone hauled the huge stock pot toward the back door of the hall, it having now been happily emptied into the bellies of those who needed it, but also desperately in need of a washing. She pressed her way through the door with a hip and the cold winter air stole the breath from her lungs for a moment. She set the pot down by the door with the other items due to return home and headed back inside for another armload.  
  
As she entered the hall, she found herself with the distinct feeling of being watched. She scanned the room and froze in place as she met the vibrant blue gaze of Aidoneus Pluton. She felt as though her heart had leapt into her throat, attempting an escape that she wished she could. Her breath skipped as she realized he was no longer simply watching, but now approaching her. She ran her hands down the front of her skirt and started as she realized she still wore the food stained apron from earlier. She hastily untied it, dropping the once white fabric on the table nearby.  
  
Aidoneus came to a stop in front of her, gazing down at her strangely.  
  
“Can I help you, Mr. Pluton?”  
  
He winced slightly at the cold formality ion her voice and demeanor. “I… I deserved that. Miss Kore, can I speak with you?”  
  
Persephone chewed the inside of her lip, hating the way her heart leaped at the prospect of time with him. _Remember, foolish woman. He is a hateful miser!_ She tamped the errant voice in her mind down and nodded slightly. “I suppose.” She crossed her arms protectively over herself and tried not to get her hopes up.

“I am sorry.” He started, “I have treated you very poorly these past few months” He kept eye contact with her as he continued, ignoring the look of surprise on her face. “You did not deserve that. I suspect I had a grave misunderstanding and though I suffered for it, I fear I may have hurt you far worse.”

Persephone found herself dumbstruck. Not only had Aidoneus apologized to her, he was asking nothing in return. He hadn’t shifted blame, nor did he even seem to have the same anxious energy about him that he usually did. He seemed calm, determined even. And Persephone felt one of the many cracks in her heart begin mending itself.

“Thank you.” She said softly. “Do you mind me asking what misunderstanding it was?”  
  
At this, he blushed deeply but still maintained the rest of his composure. “It’s rather embarrassing. I… I overheard you speaking to Mr. Jensen at his son’s funeral, and I leapt to some unflattering conclusions.”  
  
Persephone furrowed her brow “About me, you mean?”  
  
“Yes.” Aidoneus swallowed hard, bracing himself for any possible reaction following his confession. “I foolishly interpreted your conversation to mean that you were seeking a relationship with him. Or that one was already underway.” He glanced down at his shoes for a moment, shame taking over.  
  
A light chuckle caused him to raise his gaze again to Persephone’s face, only to find her trying very hard to stifle laughter. “You are… ridiculous.” She said as she finally lost the battle not to laugh at him. “I’m not sure if I should be insulted or relieved! A bit of both I suppose.”  
  
“Relieved?” Of all the reactions he could have seen coming, Persephone blatantly laughing at him was not one he had thought of. He stood now, in a deep state of utter confusion.

“Yeah.” She chuckled again, clasping her hands in front of her and glancing down at them “Hera and I jumped to some conclusions of our own. None to flattering to you.”  
  
He gaped at her for a moment before stammering “W-what?”  
  
“I was talking to him because I gave them money to help pay for the funeral. When you flipped the switch on me so fast, we figured it was because you were angry as though I was saying something about your business by doing that.” She met his gaze again, a look of mild chagrin on her face.  
  
“No!” Aidoneus reached out toward her, moving to clasp her hands, but stopping himself before managing it. “Not at all. Y-you’re a wonderful person and I really should have thought of that first. I hate to say…” He trailed off for a moment, gathering his waning courage to continue “I’ve been treated rather poorly by women I’ve liked in the past and… I shouldn’t have put that on you. I know you’re different. Can you ever forgive me?”  
  
Persephone stared at him as his confession ran through her brain. _Women I’ve liked…_ he liked her?! Her treacherous heart leapt again at his words, the thought of him liking her suddenly the only thing it wanted to hear.  
  
“Women you’ve liked?” She asked, her voice low, still not daring to hope that the answer was the one she had been secretly hoping for even in the depths of trying to convince herself to hate him. “What do you mean?”

Aidoneus froze, realizing just how much of his hand he had shown. Realizing that the only course of action now was simply to charge forward and hope his heart wouldn’t be broken yet again.  
  
“Yes, Miss Kore. I like you a great deal. I have wanted to see you every single day. To hear your laugh. To see you smile. Even when I thought… well, I couldn’t convince myself to really stop liking you.”  
  
She was certain now that her heart had stopped. It must have. She stood speechless, knowing that she ought to answer him, but having absolutely no idea what that should be.  
  
“Miss… I mean, Persephone?” He reached to her again, this time succeeding in gently clasping her hands in his “Would you like to have dinner with me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dakota/Lakota language:  
> Ate - Father
> 
> Radio reference:  
> Little Orphan Annie episode #593


	8. Preparation and Possibility

The low hum of voices interlaced with soft music was interrupted by the sharp tinkling of a bell as Persephone stepped into the beauty parlor, softly closing the worn wooden door behind her. Eros looked up from his work and smiled by way of greeting.

“Hey, honey! We are getting ready to head under the dryer. I’ll be right with you.” He returned his attention to the head of Miss Carlson. The schoolteacher’s hair was completely covered in slimy setting gel as Eros expertly molded it into a set of sharp waves, pinning each one in place before wrapping the ends on a small roller. She waved slightly to Persephone, trying not to jostle the canvas on which Eros was working his magic.

Persephone stripped off her coat, hanging it near the door before taking a seat in the vacant station next to Eros’. “How are you, Betty?” she asked, smiling kindly.

“Thankful the holiday break is coming.” The young lady laughed sardonically “I swear a timer starts on the first day of school and by mid-November the kids are so ready to bust out that it just turns into herding cats.” A wry grin turned up the corner of her mouth. Persephone knew that even when the children in town were at their most bananas that they couldn’t be in better hands than Betty’s.

“Can’t say I blame them.” Eros quipped, sliding another silver clip in place along a molded ridge of hair. “Who wants to sit in the same room day after day doing the same thing?”

Persephone gestured vaguely around her at the salon with a raised brow. Eros grinned at her before sticking his tongue out at her. “That’s different!” He declared, “Do what you love and you’ll never be an accountant or something…” he waved a hand vaguely, accidentally slopping setting gel a few feet away. “Whoops! Dorothy?”

At Eros’ call, the young redhead came from the back room, her hands busy fastening a smock along the front.

“Hello! When did you start working here?” Persephone asked with a wide grin. “Or are you just volunteering to keep Eros from getting in too much trouble?”

Dorothy smiled shyly back at her. “Well, he gets in plenty enough trouble, but no. I started a few weeks ago to see if I want to work here after graduation!” She bounced slightly on the balls of her feet with barely leashed energy.

“So far she’s managed to keep me from burning the place down. I figure I’ll keep her around.” Eros quipped, winking at Dorothy who was busying herself cleaning up the setting gel mess. “When you are finished, can you get Betty set up under the dryer, please?” Dorothy nodded, her excitement at working with a client instead of a towel very clear. 

“Can I get you a fresh coffee…?” Dorothy extended a hand to the woman, gingerly helping her from her seat. She doted on Betty all the way to the bank of dryers gleaming along the back wall. As their conversation faded away Eros cleared his used tools and set his station to rights for Persephone. Pulling a fresh cape from a nearby shelf he opened it with a flourish and spun his chair to face her, extending a hand. “Your chariot, my dear.” He spoke in an overly affected, nasal, highbrow tone that made Persephone giggle even as she rolled her eyes.

“Well, how can I turn down such service?” She quipped in return, her own diction a match of his as she took his hand and allowed herself to be steered into the waiting seat. Eros flipped the cape around her shoulders, making sure to clear the hair at her neck out of the way as he fastened it securely. A few soft, shuddering leaps and he had maneuvered her chair into a raised position and smiled at her in the mirror.

“You would never turn down an artist such as myself.” Eros joked, feigning an expression of utmost haughtiness. Persephone tapped one nail against her chin thoughtfully, making a humming sound of indecision. “Oh, I’ll dump you right out of this chair, missy.” Eros barked with laughter as he grasped a brush from the station top and began working out the fading curls from their last appointment.

“ _You_ would never do _that_.” Persephone giggled in response, watching in the mirror as Eros deftly worked his way through her dark curls. He snorted quietly and muttered “Well, not to _you_ I suppose.”

Persephone’s jaw dropped slightly in surprise. “Uh oh! Who has upset our dear Eros now?” He briefly made eye contact with her in the mirror, lips pursed in a moue of annoyance. He paused his ministrations, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially in Persephone’s ear.

“Oh, same old, same old. One of these days I’m going to start refusing to see Ruth. If it’s not that her set is too flat, it’s that it’s too voluminous. The dryer is too hot, then it’s too cold. Her color is too dark, now it’s too light. There’s just no pleasing that harridan. You’d think one of these days she’d take some kindness notes out of that “good book” her husband slings about.”

Persephone barked a quick laugh, glancing around to see if anyone was listening to their conversation “Wait a minute, Miss Virtue and Perfection colors her hair?” she hissed. Eros retreated back to his full height behind the chair and resumed brushing out the ebony curls in front of him. “Oh, I have _no idea_ what you are talking about. Where _do_ you get your ideas, love?” He said, his voice dripping with innocence, yet meeting her gaze in the mirror with a wicked gleam in his eye. The topic was swiftly dropped at the approach of Dorothy, a steaming teacup held gingerly before her. She carefully transferred it to Persephone’s care, asking “Anything else I can get for you, Ma’am?”.

Persephone took a tentative sip and shook her head minutely “Not at all, dear. The tea is exceptional today. But you can do me a favor and stop it with that “ma’am” business. Call me Persephone.”

Dorothy blushed slightly, her freckles standing out in deeper contrast “Oh, yes ma’am, I mean, Persephone.” The young lady made a hasty retreat and Eros chuckled.

“How long has she been seeing Artemis and she’s still so formal.” He shook his head with a smile and placed the brush back on his workstation. Eros released the lift of the chair, letting Persephone softly back to normal height before leading her to a nearby shampoo bowl and quickly set to work humming softly to himself as he stripped the old setting lotion and layers of hairspray from her hair. Persephone closed her eyes and allowed her mind to wander freely. Naturally, it landed on a pair of earnest blue eyes and a set of large hands clasping hers.

_“Would you like to have dinner with me?”_ The deep tones of his voice rose through her memory, languorous as smoke and just as dark, settling a lovely heavy feeling deep inside her. Of course, she had said yes. Perhaps even a bit too quickly. She smiled softly to herself recalling the way he lit up at her answer. The first real, beaming smile she had seen from him, and it had rocked her to her foundation. Maybe it was for the best that he didn’t do that more often, or she would be perpetually weak in the knees around him. His face wasn’t one meant to be dour all the time. It was meant for joyful, happy things. However, it did spark a secret thrill to know she was privy to a side of him not many must know.

“So, my love…” Eros’ voice broke into Persephone’s daydream. “Anything fun or fancy coming up this week or are we running with our usual game plan?” Persephone’s eyes shot open and Eros laughed. “Ok, so there’s something going on. You going to tell me, or do I have to drag it out of you?” He elbowed the water off and wrapped a towel soundly around Persephone’s head before leading her back to his station. Eros placed a hand on either side of her head, pressing lightly to gently wring her hair out before removing the towel with a flick. He crossed his arms and stared at her reflection; one brow raised. “Well?” Persephone chewed on her lip pensively and Eros raised his hands in defeat “Hey you don’t have to tell me everything, but how fancy am I going here, love?”

“Umm… well, I have a dinner tomorrow. I’m not certain how fancy though.” Persephone admitted softly.

“A _date?_ My girl has a date and didn’t think to tell me. I am _wounded!”_ Eros made a dramatic show of placing his hand over his heart in anguish before breaking the act and laughing. “I suppose I can forgive you. If you tell me who it is maybe we can ferret out where you’re headed and get some ideas.”

Persephone grinned crookedly at him “You’re just nosy.”

Eros raised a hand “Guilty. But you have to admit that Doctor Olsen would take you somewhere far different than one of the local hayseeds.”

Persephone scoffed “Doctor Olsen is 78, and he’s married.”

“My point exactly! Bad match. Probably would be a terrible date. I suppose I can just start guessing eligible men in town.” Eros tapped his chin with a comb. “It’s obviously not _me._ Wait. It’s not me, is it? Are you asking me out?” He gasped, face alight with impish glee.

Persephone laughed, placing a hand to one cheek “Oh, you’ve figured out my plan. I knew you’d be enamored with me once I was sitting here in this glamourous cape looking like a drowned kitten!”

“Yeah, not me. Is it Hermes?” Eros busied himself doling a generous amount of setting gel into a small bowl.

“Nope.” Persephone retrieved her teacup from the station and settled in for the real work to begin.

“Well, honey, there’s not exactly a wealth of single men in this town. Unless…” Eros stopped midway through parting Persephone’s hair, examining her expression in the mirror. “No. That’s silly.” He briefly resumed his work before stopping again. “The only other person I can think of… but you hate each other…Are you going out with Aidoneus Pluton?” Eros asked with obvious incredulity painted across his face.

Persephone wasn’t quick enough to hide the look of surprise that flitted across her face before Eros hooted in triumph and began rattling off questions “That is the _last_ thing I would have expected. Ok, _now_ you have to spill. Did you ask him? No, He asked you, right? Since when are you two friendly? You couldn’t stand him a few weeks ago!”

“Eros!” Persephone begged “I’ll explain but you need to cool it! I’m already all nerves about it.” He nodded sagely and pantomimed a zipper across his mouth before picking his comb back up and resuming sectioning Persephone’s hair. Slowly the story began to spill out of her. The animosity, botched deliveries, crossed wires, the whole messy situation. “So, he showed up as I was cleaning up from the kitchen and he said he likes me, and he asked me to dinner… but I doubt it’s a date…” she finished lamely.

“Hold up, so your immediate thought process to someone confessing that they like you is that they couldn’t possibly be right, and they invited you out on a neutral basis? Honey, you are certifiable.” Eros poked at her reflection with his comb “You know darn well this is a date. And I know darn well that I’m going to make you look like a million bucks.”

“But what if it’s not. What if it’s just another one of his strange attempts to make good and he meant “like” as in tolerate?”

Eros sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You know for two people who are so smart, you’re both kind of dumb socially.” Persephone huffed and glowered at his reflection to which he held a hand up in censure. “Uh uh, love. You’re both being dumb. That man has lived here for, what, a little over a year? I can’t frankly say I’ve ever noticed him to be particularly wishy-washy about what he means. If anything, he’s so taciturn it’s painful.” He held his hand up to stop any argument from Persephone “If he was putting his foot in his mouth like that around you, you’re right, he doesn’t like you. He _really_ likes you. Now, you sit there and be gorgeous and let me enhance it. You’re going to knock him for an absolute loop.”

* * *

Snow scrunched softly underfoot as Persephone made her way along the path beside her home, more of the stuff determinedly falling from the sky in fluffy, loose clumps. Stomping her feet off on the porch she stepped into the blessed warmth of the back room. She kicked out of her boots and stripped off her coat and headscarf before seeking out Artemis. “That’s… different.” Artemis said, turning to address Persephone as she entered the kitchen.

“Well, you know Eros. He gets an idea and he just can’t wait to try it. It looks nice though, right?” Persephone gingerly patted the thick, smooth twist at the back of her head.

“Yeah. Real nice. You look like Ella. But it seems a bit much for working at the shop.” Artemis returned her attention to the cutting board and the small pile of potatoes she was peeling before Persephone arrived.

“I go places sometimes.” Persephone bit back, depositing herself at the kitchen table to watch her cousin work.

Artemis snorted “Yeah. Work, The Palace and the soup kitchen.” She smirked back at Persephone over her shoulder.

Persephone tapped one red lacquered nail against the tabletop. “So what? I have… responsibilities.” She leaned back and watched her cousin’s back as she continued “But seeing as I have a date tomorrow…” she trailed off nonchalantly.

Artemis’ body stiffened with shock. Placing the paring knife back on the board, she slowly turned to face Persephone. “You. Have a date. Tomorrow.”

“Yep. Say, did you know Dorothy is working with Eros Amor now?”

Artemis folded her arms over her chest eyeing her cousin suspiciously. “Yeah I did. Don’t change the subject. This date? Who is it with?” At Persephone’s continued silence Artemis sighed. “It’s Aidoneus, isn’t it?”

Persephone glanced up at her “Yes. And what of it? I’m an adult. I can make my own choices.”

“Well, yeah. Of course, you can.” Artemis pulled a worn chair away from the table, seating herself opposite Persephone, softly taking her hand. “I mean, I’m happy for you. Really. Just… be careful. You know… before…” Artemis cast her gaze down at the scarred tabletop.

Persephone’s eyes darkened “He’s not like that. I can tell. But yeah, I’ll be careful.” She gave Artemis’ hand a gentle squeeze “He’s picking me up here, we are going to dinner, and that’s it.”

“Ok.” Artemis nodded, standing to resume her work. She turned back to Persephone with the paring knife in hand, gesturing in the vague direction of Aidoneus’ funeral home “But if I hear _one_ bad thing, if he’s not a _perfect_ gentleman? I’m turning him into chopped liver. Deal?”

Persephone smiled softly “Deal.” She stood from the table and retreated up the narrow stairs to her room, immediately pulling a thick pink sweater from her closet to chase away the feeling of being suddenly chilled. She sat on the edge of her bed, breathing deeply and worrying the knit fabric in her hands. It had been years since Persephone gave any thought to the man from Olympus and her mood had taken a decided turn for the worse. She couldn’t very well blame Artemis for her concern. It was easier, here on the prairie to forget about her entrance into Olympus society and the disaster of a betrothal that had come with it. But it had happened all the same, and the same mistake didn’t bear repeating. Persephone's trust would never be won so easily again.

_“Remember. You’re my girl…”_

Persephone shook her head softly, attempting to clear the horror of the past and focus more acutely on the anxious feeling in her stomach caused by another man. Aidoneus was nothing like him. There was no feeling in her gut like a cold rock when she spoke to him. No creeping sense of something behind his demeanor. Nothing like _him_. She sighed and paced over to her vanity mirror, looking again at the elegant swath of curls piled above her forehead and smiled softly. It was a rather lovely look for her. She only hoped she’d be able to fine tune it as well after a night’s sleep. If she would be able to sleep at all. The pervasive feeling of butterflies in her stomach seemed determined to set up camp for the night. Changing into her sweater, she allowed her mind to wander and the notions of her imagination to coalesce in earnest. To imagine a lovely evening with a handsome companion. To imagine dancing and laughter and that wonderful, disarming smile. To imagine warm things. Lovely things.

And for the first time in years, Persephone felt the budding of a feeling she hadn’t felt in so long it took a moment for her to place a name to it.

Hope.


	9. Just Dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta by the incomparable Daalex. Forever my love.

Aidoneus idly drummed his fingers on the slim steering wheel of his car in an attempt to likewise drum up his courage to approach Persephone’s home. Damn that inner voice of his to hell. All day long it had done its level best to convince him of the fruitlessness of his hope. 

_ She is entirely too lively for you. _

__

_ What would a woman like her see in a man like you? _

__

_ Do at least  _ try  _ not to put your damned foot in it this time. _

__

There seemed to be no friend in his life half as fickle as his own mind. He minutely shook his head in a vain attempt to dislodge the petulant thoughts and cast his gaze again toward the small home. It was absolutely the kind of home you would expect a woman like Persephone to live in. Even in the depths of winter the remains of the rambling garden stood sentinel about the perimeter, snowcapped blooms creating a unique foliage all their own. The warm light spilling from the windows called deeply to that cold, lonely place inside him, a siren call promising life and joy. The vibrant red of the front door had long ago faded to that of an intense pink that many would have promptly repainted, but somehow the shade seemed to belong to her home. Garish anywhere else, here it was as if a label stating, “Herein lies a matchless place”. A shadow passed by the window on the upper floor and Aidoneus felt a frisson of anticipation stir in his chest. Any longer loitering outside and he was bound to seem peculiar. Well, more peculiar than usual. He heaved a shaky sigh and pressed open the car door, stepping out into the brisk twilight air.

At Aidoneus’ approach, a bright red bird startled from the dormant garden, his search for dinner quite forgotten in the face of the tall invader. It perched on a tree just beyond the perimeter of the yard, seemingly content to wait patiently until the danger had passed. Aidoneus touched the brim of his hat in the creature’s direction with a small smile before approaching the door. He steeled himself one last time before he raised his leather gloved hand and knocked resolutely. Whatever would come would come. 

What came it seemed, was a wary teenager. The door opened initially only a crack, dark eyes peering at him through the gap. 

“Who goes there?” A voice laced with faux gravel came from the door guardian.

“Aidoneus Pluton, my esteemed sentry.”

The corners of the dark eyes crinkled for a moment before quickly regaining their icy assessment. “State your business, Aidoneus Pluton.” The voice growled again.

A small smile lifted the corner of Aidoneus’ mouth. There was no harm in playing the teenager’s game. “I come in the hopes of courting the fair lady of the house. What say you?”

The door opened another half a foot and the whole of Artemis’ face came into view. “I suppose that is understandable. She is very fair.” She now spoke in her usual voice, her guardian act falling away to leave only the willowy teenager. She gave Aidoneus’ form a full once over before nodding her head minutely and opening the door to admit him. He stepped into the warmth of the foyer and did his level best to surreptitiously take in every detail he could. Any information he could gather about Persephone and her interests he gathered to him and hoarded like a dragon over his treasure. She had beautiful taste. The home was a mix of the modern and the classic in just such a lived-in way that spoke to the care she took in her home. His idle thoughts of earlier were correct. This was no sterile showplace, but a place of comfort and warmth. He stepped forward, framing himself in the arched opening leading into the den. A merry fire crackled away in the hearth on the far wall and he fought the urge to drop his jaw in shock. The remainder of the wall was completely flush with books. The volumes were nearly enough to stock a small library. A portrait of a dour woman stared down at him from above the warm fire, a silent sentinel and he felt her somehow judging his intentions and very character. He gave a small shudder and turned his attention to Artemis.

She stood near the window bench staring down at the seat before her. She spared a glance at Aidoneus brusquely saying, “Take a seat. She’ll be down when she’s down.” he heeded her and glanced at the seat that had so captured her attention only to do a double take when he realized there was an array of knives laid before her. Artemis deftly dropped to the floor, simultaneously folding her legs into a pretzel shape before the window seat and began shifting the knives about, sorting them by some unknown criteria. Aidoneus watched her in silence for a minute or so before speaking. “Is that the… entirety of your collection?”

Artemis stopped cold, slowly turning her head to meet his gaze, hers remaining a deadpan completely unreadable façade. She stared at him for a moment before blinking and turning back to her sorting without answering his question. Aidoneus was quick enough to take a hint and asked no further about the shining spread before her. Minutes ticked by in awkward silence as knives moved back and forth, the manner of catalogue completely beyond understanding, before a soft singing began, “ _ Lydia, oh, Lydia. Say, have you met Lydia? Oh, Lydia the Tattooed Lady… _ ” It took a moment for him to realize it was Artemis singing as her demeanor hadn’t changed and she barely moved her lips. She continued on, gradually gaining volume and boisterousness “ _ On her back is the battle of Waterloo, beside it the wreck of the Hesperus too and proudly above waves the red, white, and BLUUUUUUUUE! You can learn a lot from Lydia!”  _ She warbled the last of it with a level of energy often reserved for the frontlines of war and fell back into her complete silence as though nothing untoward had occurred. Aidoneus sat in dumbfounded stillness wondering if outright madness ran in the Kore family.

“Artemis, you aren’t terrorizing our guest, are you?” A bemused voice rang out from the doorway and Aidoneus turned and summarily beheld the most beautiful sight he had ever seen in his life. Persephone stood in the archway, a shy smile on her face. A gown of emerald green satin seemed poured over her form from collarbone to floor, flaring about her ankles in gentle waves and folds that caught the light most becomingly. Soft fluttering cap sleeves of the same fabric graced her small shoulders. Her hair was gathered in beautiful rolls and curls affording her another scant few inches of height. Aidoneus stepped forward and found that even with heels and her elaborate hairstyle she would scarcely reach his chin. Somehow the slightness of her size was even more becoming, though he would never make the mistake of considering her delicate. No, this woman for all her shyness now, he knew held volumes of fire and conviction of steel. The balance was certainly part of what drew him to her so inexorably. 

Aidoneus swallowed hard and drew in a shaking breath. “You look… lovely.” He spoke softly, his words only for her. He was rewarded by her soft smile and the deepening color of her cheeks as she flushed so prettily. “Thank you. You look very handsome yourself.” She replied. “I wasn’t certain where we were headed. I hope I’m not overdone.” She clasped her hands before her, anxiety coloring the gesture.

He reached a hand toward hers, hoping she wouldn’t notice how it trembled. He laid his palm over her hands and shook his head slightly. “You are perfect.” Her gaze snapped up to his, eyes widened in surprise. Aidoneus wondered if perhaps Persephone had not been paid nearly enough compliments in her life. He would have to do his best to rectify that. “Shall we?” he asked softly, and she nodded in response before heading to a small coat closet and gathering a swath of black wool. He stepped forward and took it from her, holding the cape-like garment open for her to thread her arms through. He found himself suppressing the sound of a shaking breath as he noted the open diamond shape in the back of her gown, one lone delicate button at the nape holding the responsibility of the bodice of the gown. His mouth suddenly seemed entirely too dry and he thought that perhaps it was best not to think of small buttons for the moment. Persephone turned, fastening the coat at her throat.

“Now, behave while I’m gone. Or at the very least please don’t get caught.” Persephone called to Artemis. The teenager grinned at her mischievously and nodded her head. “You know I never get caught.” She replied, eyes flashing with delight. Persephone pursed her crimson lips and hummed a pessimistic noise before returning her attention to Aidoneus. “My apologies for my cousin. She is somewhat bonkers.”

The sound of “I am not!” came petulantly trailing the couple out into the winter evening.

* * *

“I admit this isn’t entirely what I was expecting.” Persephone cast her gaze around the opulent space. A glittering bar stood against the back wall, a towering pyramid of mirrors and ornate tile serving as the backdrop for bottles containing all manner of drink. Skilled bartenders moved about behind it, fluid as any dancer. Oh, and dancers there were. Women on small stages, clad in clothing dripping with faux jewels that left nothing to the imagination, danced and performed feats of flexibility the likes of which Persephone had never seen. A vast bandstand was fully staffed, musicians in black tie performing in perfect unison. The gleaming hardwood dance floor was only visible in flashes as dancers flew past, buoyed by the upbeat and driving drums of the band’s rendition of that popular Benny Goodman song that had been all over the radio of late. 

Aidoneus smiled at Persephone’s obvious interest in the club. “My brother does have a tendency to take things to an extreme.” He had decided to take her to Don’s latest business venture. Always searching for the good time, Don finally opted to open his own nightclub. The Atlantic had quickly become one of the more popular venues in Olympus, boasting unique fare and even more unique shows. Tonight’s offering was a troupe of contortionists. Aidoneus idly swirled the amber liquor in his glass as he watched the patrons on the dancefloor. There must be something to be said about the inverse of the animal kingdom on display, the women brightly feathered while the men dressed almost exclusively in black, but if there was a commentary to be made, his mind certainly couldn’t stretch to it right now. 

Persephone quirked a brow at him “I thought Bruce only owned The Palace?” 

“Ah. Well there are actually three of us, much to the chagrin of the universe at large. Don is the middle brother and as such seems to think he has to outdo and overdo everything he does. Though in this case it seems to be a success.” He watched as Persephone took a sip from her delicate wine glass, the red half circle left on the rim somehow just as tempting to him as the lips that left the mark. “I thought we could start the evening with dinner here and return back to Lore for a movie if that suits you.”

Persephone nodded before assessing him with a slight tilt of her head “A tour of the Pluton men’s businesses? I do hope we are stopping short of yours. No offense, I mean, but…” She trailed off, quickly taking another sip of her drink, embarrassment painted on her features. She was startled by the low sound of Aidoneus chuckling. “No. I suppose that wouldn’t be a very good venue, would it? No offense taken.” He raised his glass toward her with a smile.

Persephone returned the gesture. “You should do that more often you know.” She mused.

“What is that, Miss Kore?” Aidoneus asked, one dark brow raising.

“Smiling. It suits you.” She answered softly, her cheeks gaining that most becoming color again. 

Aidoneus sat silent for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “I suppose, historically, I haven’t had much to bother smiling about. You seem to be the exception to that rule.” Her eyes widened slightly before a soft smile developed on her face. 

She spoke so softly that Aidoneus wasn’t even certain he had heard her at first, but he seized what she said and buried it deep in his heart. The sound of her soft voice saying, “Perhaps we need to change that rule.” 

* * *

Aidoneus silently thanked the heavens that dinner had gone without incident. Luck had even favored him so far as Don being on his best behavior. He had stopped by their table, graciously greeting Persephone and accepting her compliments on his venue. Aidoneus had, however, felt a momentary clutch of jealousy in his gut when his brother had pressed his lips to Persephone’s hand before excusing himself.  _ Why didn’t you think to do that?  _ He mentally admonished himself. He could only hope that exposing her to his charming brothers didn’t cast his awkwardness in too dim a light. 

He had asked Persephone about her greenhouse on the car ride back to lore and had then been able to simply bask in the warmth of her obvious joy in talking about her passion. It was difficult to avoid stealing glances at her as she chattered along animatedly, her hands fluttering as she described the size and shape of various blooms she had cultivated or those she hoped to. Rarely had Aidoneus felt such easy comfort with another person. There was something about it that he felt he hadn’t yet landed on, some intrinsic fact about her company that felt obvious, yet just outside his grasp. He resolved to let it lie in favor of simply  _ enjoying  _ himself with another person. Lord knew that was rare enough in its own right. 

“What about you?” Persephone’s voice deftly broke through the haze of his introspection.

“What do you mean, “What about you?” He flexed his hands on the steering wheel, preparing to turn down the thoroughfare leading back to Lore.

“Your business. What led you to the funeral business?” She asked blithely.

Aidoneus suddenly felt very put on the spot, but if there was anyone he could, or  _ should _ , be open with, it was Persephone. He sighed softly before answering. “Death is… hard. You once laid into me about how funerals used to be a family affair. You aren’t wrong, there’s a certain detachment to hiring it out, but sometimes family is worse.” He swallowed hard, memories rising to choke him. “My mother passed away when I was young. I loved her more than any person in my life. Often, she was the only bright, good thing I had. My father was… demanding at best. Outright hateful at worst. Some part of me thought he must at least love  _ her, _ though. Even if he hated or resented his children, surely he must love her.” 

He fell into silence for a moment, staring out the windshield, driving seemingly by muscle memory as he reluctantly dragged up the past. “But then my mother died. Any thought that he loved her was instantly put to death as well. At first, I thought maybe he was just keeping his grief to himself, but it became obvious that he really didn’t care. I doubt he shed a single tear or felt even a moment of sorrow. He could hardly be bothered with any of the funeral arrangements. For all the money and connections in the world, she laid in our home near like an unknown pauper, her husband doing the absolute bare minimum in her honor. Only Don and I sat mourning her. Bruce was too young to even know what was happening. I suppose that was a pretty formative experience for me. At least…” He sighed deeply, trailing off.

“At least what?” Persephone’s soft voice drifted over to him, choked with emotion.

“At least at my funeral home everyone is respected. Everyone who comes through is treated how I wish my mother had been.” He finished quietly. 

* * *

Persephone fell into silence as Aidoneus guided the car into a parking space beneath the flickering lights of The Palace’s marquee. Guilt soured in her stomach as she replayed his story. Why was their relationship always a series of crossed wires and bad assumptions? Once, it was the obvious assumption that he was in Lore for the profit of it, much as his brother was. She was quickly realizing that there wasn’t much about Aidoneus that was obvious. He rounded the car to open her door, guiding her out with a gentle hand. She drew even with him on the sidewalk, meeting his gaze for a moment before quietly saying “Thank you.”

He drew her nearer, clasping her hand to his chest, his other hand momentarily stealing to her waist. He seemed to fight some silent internal battle for a moment before raising her hand to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to her fingers. “You are welcome, Persephone.” He spoke softly, some emotion dipping his words in smoke before allowing them to be spoken. The tone sank into her, pooling somewhere far lower than she would have expected, and she swallowed, her mouth suddenly run dry. Aidoneus inclined his head clearly in consideration of something, his eyes turning a dark sapphire, before abruptly straightening his posture with a sigh, his composure regained. 

It took Persephone a moment to identify the strange feeling of disappointment that accompanied the change in him.  _ Heaven help me, I like him uncomposed.  _ She threaded her trembling hand through his offered arm and allowed herself to be led into The Palace. Aidoneus glanced down at her with a smirk “So, I hear that you aren’t a big Bela Lugosi fan.”. 

Persephone laughed, a quick lyrical sound before answering him. “It’s not Mr. Lugosi I have issue with. It’s the walk home that gives me the shudders.” 

Now it was Aidoneus’ turn to laugh. “Well, it’s a good thing I’m driving you home then.” 

Persephone’s steps ground to a halt and she propped her small fists on her hips, glaring at him with faux anger. “What did you do?” She asked, trying to smother the smile that wanted to develop on her face. 

“I may have borrowed the theatre from my brother for the night.” He closed the gap between them as he stripped off his gloves. “Hera said you enjoy having it all to yourself. So, I took the liberty of choosing the film.”

“And Hera told you to choose something terrifying?” Persephone asked, maintaining her façade of indignation.

His eyes took on that dark quality again for an instant as he answered “Actually, she suggested something romantic.” He paused with a smirk “And then she suggested something that would  _ definitely  _ fail the Hays Code and isn’t often shown in mixed company.”

Persephone laughed darkly as her cheeks deepened in color “Hera would say that, wouldn’t she? I’ll assume you went with the first option?”

He laughed, a wry smile on his lips “Actually, I chose neither. I was listening to the radio the other day and there was a Lux broadcast of  _ Captain Blood _ . I remember the movie version from a few years back being quite good, and after seeing your literature collection this evening I feel confident that you enjoy a good adventure too.”

Persephone smiled softly, reaching to thread her fingers into his “That sounds perfect.”

* * *

Persephone grimaced inwardly as she saw the area of the theatre that Hera had  _ clearly  _ had a hand in. It was like their surreptitious movie nights taken to the next degree. A small table had been shimmied into the aisle bearing an ice pail gleaming softly in the low light, a bottle of champagne nestled safely within. Two glasses and a dish of strawberries stood alongside it.  _ Where on Earth did she find those at this time of year? _ The meaning of her friend could not have been clearer if she had created a neon display exclaiming “ _ HOW ABOUT THEM MATCHSTICKS?”  _ As though she could forget.

__

Aidoneus helped her out of her coat and gave a brief hand signal to the projection booth before settling in himself. Handing her a glass his fingers seemed to linger against hers for what in good company might have been a bit too long. Considering they were  _ not  _ at the moment in good company she dearly felt the loss of the contact when he settled back to watch the beginning of the film. “You know,” Persephone leaned toward Aidoneus, speaking conspiratorially “This just shows that Flynn is a good actor. You almost believe that he’s a gentleman doctor instead of the degenerate he really is.” 

Aidoneus barked with laughter “Well he better be. How else is he meant to have a screen presence when his leading lady is wearing a whole ostrich on her head?” He offered her the dish of berries with a grin. Persephone plucked one out and bit the end off not really realizing she hadn’t broken eye contact until his gaze turned molten once again. She swallowed hard, breaking his gaze and turning her attention back to the flickering screen, resolving to keep her gaze to herself. They continued in that fashion, laughing about the actors, the silly backdrops pretending to be the Caribbean, and the outlandish costumes, an easy comfort between them until the elephant in the room chose once again to sit squarely down and demand Persephone’s attention.

At a calm interlude in the film between the leading man and lady, Persephone was surprised to hear “I suppose I did choose the romance.” Aidoneus’ low voice carried to her from a point much closer than she expected, and she felt the brush of his lips against the shell of her ear. A soft gasp escaped her as a thrill ran through her, pooling in areas that didn’t bear mentioning. 

“Do you suppose so?” She asked breathlessly, gaze stubbornly on the screen as Flynn gathered Miss DeHaviland in his arms, pressing a hard kiss to her lips.

Aidoneus’ hand intertwined with hers on the arm of the seat, a dark, warm chuckle sounding in her ear before his nose brushed the skin directly behind it, sending shivers rocketing through her. “Yes, Persephone. I suppose I did.”

She adjusted her posture bolt upright and drained her champagne glass with very unladylike gusto.  _ Good lord, did Hera turn the heat up in here as well? _ Persephone could have sworn she heard another dark chuckle from her left as the warm hand in hers was withdrawn to take her empty glass. She mutely accepted a refill, noting with a shiver that he had split one of the deep red berries onto the rim. 

* * *

Aidoneus wasn’t exactly certain where he had dredged up the absolute guts to behave as he was, but he certainly wasn’t sorry. Persephone was clearly as disarmed by him as he was by her. She was putting on a great show that she was engrossed by the Spanish invasion of Port Royal, but her breathing was slightly rapid, and she kept worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. He felt the strongest urge to do exactly the same to her lip but resolved to control himself at least to that extent. He laced his fingers with hers once again and smiled as he noted the hitch in her breathing. 

The movie quite forgotten to him Aidoneus spent the remainder of it subtly teasing Persephone, delighting in each reaction he could garner from her. By the time that Captain Blood sat in the Governor’s chair he was well certain that Persephone was shaken indeed. As the credits rolled, he had resolved to finally press his luck and try to kiss her. He leaned across the arm of the seat and reached forward to tip her chin in his direction just as she sprang to her feet. 

“Well, that was a good movie, you were right! Very… full of pirates.” Persephone babbled as she gathered her coat from the seat it lay across. “And the music and the costumes were very… pirate-like.” She continued lamely.

Aidoneus stood, holding his hand out for her coat. He helped her into it and leaned down to brush his lips to the side of her neck as he straightened her collar. He noted that Persephone abruptly ran out of things to say about pirates as a shiver ran through her. He heard her breath hiss out of her abruptly as she began to make her way out of the aisle. Frowning, he grabbed his coat, whipping it on as he followed her, now beginning to doubt himself. Maybe he had just spent an entire film making her uncomfortable.  _ Great job assuming she wanted you. You just spent an hour acting like a scoundrel.  _

Catching up to her just outside the front door, Aidoneus stopped under the marquee calling to her “Persephone, please. Wait!” She stalled her escape. Snow was now falling from the sky, landing delicately in her hair. She turned to face him, eyeing him warily. “Persephone, I’m sorry. I think I was perhaps seeing something that doesn’t exist…” She raised a hand, mutely cutting him off.

“No. Please… You… you are just fine. It’s just… new to me. I’m a little out of sorts I suppose.” She met his gaze with a sigh “But it’s not unwelcome.”

“I’m still sorry. I was teasing you pretty shamelessly.” 

Persephone raised a brow at him “It  _ is _ very unlike you.”

Aidoneus stepped nearer, closing the gap between them and drew the back of his hand along her cheek. “I think I just wanted you to feel how I always feel when I see you…” he trailed off, his voice low and ragged. Persephone gasped softly, instinctively pressing her hand to his chest. His heart was indeed thundering away under her palm, lending truth to his words. 

“That’s impossible.” She murmured “If you felt like this every time you saw me you would hardly be able to function.”

“What makes you think I can?” He asked, his voice shaking with want. He turned his hand to cup her cheek and leaned down to lightly press his lips to hers in a trembling, chaste kiss. 

“Oh.” Persephone said on a shuddering exhale. She met his gaze, finding it the deep, dark blue that sent shivers down her spine. Suddenly, she positively growled and reached up behind his neck to drag him back down to her.

Aidoneus wrapped his arm around her, crushing her closer to him as he welcomed the ferocious kiss. He hungrily slanted his lips over hers, indulging his previous craving to capture her bottom lip in his teeth and he felt an answering shudder course through Persephone’s body. God, he had never felt such need for another person in all his life. He kissed her as though it were the very thing that could sustain him the rest of his days. 

Indeed, every nip, every tease, every taste of her would be irrevocably burned into his mind and if he died tomorrow he would do so knowing he had found something viscerally, shatteringly real standing in the softly falling snow and bathed in the warm glow of the theatre marquee.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs:  
> Oblique reference to “Sing, Sing, Sing” by Benny Goodman.  
> “Lydia the Tattooed Lady” by Groucho Marx.  
> Film:  
> Captain Blood starring Errol Flynn and Olivia DeHaviland.


End file.
